


Excalibur: The Witch in the Lake

by Amintadefender



Series: Excalibur [2]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Disability, Gen, Intrigue, Marianne survives, Plot, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 95,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amintadefender/pseuds/Amintadefender
Summary: Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
Series: Excalibur [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844029
Comments: 186
Kudos: 107





	1. Loyalties

_ Much of Gene Smilas's history is mired in controversy, but he was undoubtedly a brilliant mind and lay the foundation of the world as we know it. He came from humble roots and, at age nineteen, earned a spot at the École spéciale militaire de Saint-Cyr. Despite graduating at the top of his class, he didn't have the family connections necessary to advance his career and fell into obscurity until the Battle of Plage Eclair where he saved his platoon against a surprise attack from Marianne the Flash. Upon his return, he was regaled as a war hero and quickly rose through the military ranks. _

_ \--La biographie du Général Smilas _

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

Alone, Lelouch waited in the lavish stateroom, furnished in the rococo style, as he wondered why his father had summoned him. On the small stone table before him, a cold cup of tea waited. Since accepting his role as Zero, an agent of the Emperor, three years ago, his father had never sent a formal summons. Messages were either sent through Henry, or more frequently, by phone. But this time, the situation was different. 

The summons had arrived by mail and requested his presence at the Britannian Embassy in Australia to meet with the Emperor. He had quickly burnt the letter and called his mother in hope of it being a ploy. It wasn't and his mother refused to say anything more on the matter.

Lelouch ran his hand through his bleached hair again and checked his watch. Three hours had passed. Had he failed? Displeased his father in some way? What would he do to Nunnally?

His breath stuttered as his lungs battled the sudden paralysis. Now was not the time for this. Well, it was never the time. Normally Frederick or Henry would notice something amiss and anchor him back in reality. But he had sent Frederick on a frivolous shopping expedition, intent on keeping his friend away from the scrutiny of his family. Three years under Henry and Lelouch's tutelage could only teach Frederick so much as how to act like a proper royal guard. 

Lelouch wasn't sure whether he was relieved that his father's guards had requested Henry to wait outside. On the one hand, whenever Henry met his father he would return different. Colder. Fanatic. It took months for things to return to a normal rhythm, then the Emperor would call, and the cycle would begin again. Despite Lelouch's best efforts, he could never ascertain what his father would say to elicit such a drastic personality change. At least today, he wouldn't have a stranger return to guard his side.

On the other hand, Lelouch couldn't show weakness. Not now. And despite Henry's flaws, he was dependable. 

An unspeakable held the door open, indicating he was expected. Lelouch took a deep breath and tried to bury his unease. The unspeakable nodded as he approached and Lelouch's heart battered. With the exception of Henry, the unspeakables never responded to someone besides the Emperor. They were impassive unless ordered otherwise or responding to a threat. 

The door shut, locking him in the lion’s den.

Eyes trained on the floor, Lelouch knelt respectfully. Responding to an official summon was not the time to disrespect his father. At least, unlike the throne room in Pendragon, the floor was carpeted. The Australians, for all their accommodations, wouldn't build an official throne room for a foreign Emperor. That act would shred the veneer of neutrality they clung to. 

"You may rise, Lelouch," his father said as he seated himself across from him.

Lelouch stood, the armchairs to his side tempting him, but he wasn't a fool. He stood straight and kept his eyes respectfully lowered. "Have I displeased you, Your Majesty?"

"Have you given me a reason to be?" his father asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"I strive to fulfill your mandate," Lelouch answered, sidestepping the treacherous question. There was no right answer.

"And you have. Every task I set forth, you completed satisfactorily."

Lelouch forced his body to relax. Satisfactorily. Or rather the bare minimum. And Lelouch could not contest it because, while he followed order to the letter, he didn't follow their spirit. And he was being called out on it.

The Emperor rose and walked to the window overlooking the inner courtyard. "Have you given thought as to what role Nunnally will claim at the end of the year?"

"She's happy at Ashford's," Lelouch protested. "I will endeavor to do better."

"So you haven't? You're much like Cornelia, shielding your younger sibling. Although unlike Nunnally, Euphemia is already sixteen, well past the age of being coddled. We will see." He walked back to Lelouch, handing him a photo. "Have you heard any rumors of this woman? She likes to go by the name C.C."

Lelouch gingerly took the photo of the woman with flowing green hair, standing next to his mother, and eating a slice of pizza. The name reminded him of his recovery in the hospital and his father's order to forget V.V.

"Unfortunately, I haven't. The OSI would be better equipped to find a missing person.”

"They failed to notice her disappearance or ascertain her location. Your counterintelligence operations may catch wind of her. If so, inform me immediately and do not let her become public knowledge. Check pizzerias. She will do almost anything for pizza."

Lelouch nodded and returned the photo. "And if I do find her?"

"Either she turned traitor, in which case, you are to capture her  _ alive  _ and immediately return her to Pendragon. Exterminate any allies she might have found. Or she has been captured and you will free her and execute her captors."

"If her captors..."

"Regardless of class. If anyone objects, inform them that it is a direct order from myself."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lelouch answered as he digested the power he had been granted. The secrecy around the target was staggering and he worried that his division was being used as disposables. If her captors or allies were guaranteed a death sentence, then what did that mean for the Numbers who interacted with her? Or even himself who would know too much?

"This matter will remain secret, even from your royal guards. Understood?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Walk with me," his father ordered as he led him outside. "The official reason as to why I have summoned you is to grant you a seat in the negotiating room with the E.U. At seventeen, you can no longer hide in the shadows."

Lelouch simply nodded. His spoiled act could only hold off suspicion for so long. Every royal child was expected to have their hand in some productive endeavor and his flimsy cover of selling furniture wouldn't hold much longer. If he did nothing public, then he would invite scrutiny as to why. The moment he stepped out the shadows, the life he had built would slip through his fingers. Time was running out.

"Your presence should encourage Schneizel and Guinevere to cease stalling." Ahead, an unspeakable opened the door to another stateroom where his two older siblings respectfully rose from their seats. "Guinevere, Schneizel. I trust you will set your best example to teach your younger brother the art of negotiations."

Guinevere curtsied. "Of course, Father. It would be an honor."

His father nodded and left. The second the door shut, Guinevere's earnest expression evaporated, replaced with a derisive sneer. "Let's go. It's uncouth to keep others waiting."

Schneizel shook his head and settled a hand on Lelouch's shoulder as they followed her. "Don't take her attitude personally, Lelouch. She's been in a foul mood since Father turned down her request for an increased allowance. Warm weather in February. Unimaginable, isn't it? Is Australia to your liking?"

"Not really, honestly. I found a snake in the toilet this morning. If that's indicative of the rest of the country's temperament, I can see why they remain independent," Lelouch answered as he pondered his brother's words. Guinevere had lost favor with his father. Every year, she requested an increased allowance, and every year he acquiesced at a fraction of what she requested. But this year, nothing.

Guinevere huffed. "You would be right at home with these half-bloods. They're weak because they mixed commoner and royal blood."

"Sister!" Schneizel protested. "Might I remind you we're supposed to verbally spar with the E.U. gentleman, not amongst ourselves."

"As long as he remembers his place, nothing will happen. He's an embarrassment to the family, but he can't hide forever, so Father gave him to us to contain the fallout."

Lelouch held his silence. This was nothing new and if his elder sister thought he was eight once more who could be easily riled with a few insults, she was mistaken.

"We will present a united front," Schneizel said firmly. "If you insist on this ridiculous quarrel, I will not let it affect the negotiations."

"And if you had done your job properly," Guinevere shot back, "then I would be enjoying a calming bath at home instead of traveling to this miserable country. Your job was to ensure the traitors would return home and face justice. Zero even gifted you with E.U. prisoners to arrange an exchange. Yet, half of the traitors still haven't faced justice so Father insists I should help you and refuses to increase my stipend. I missed the last two fashion festivals because of you. And Bedivere's birthday." With her last declaration, she stormed ahead.

"The Greenford boy, really?" Schneizel groaned. "My apologies, Lelouch. You aren't the only one to clash with our sister's  _ magnanimous  _ personality. Unfortunately, she is right. Father is losing his patience so please just watch and listen. We can discuss the meeting afterwards."

Guinever waited in front of a nondescript door and they entered together, unified. The room wasn't part of either the Britannian or E.U. embassy, instead located in a small office building in-between. Lelouch’s lips quirked at how uncomfortable his two siblings looked surrounded by plastic chairs and in front of a cheap white desk marred with scratches.

In contrast, the two E.U. representatives looked at ease. The elder, wearing a freshly pressed military uniform and array of badges under his left collar, rose and extended a hand in greeting. His two siblings ignored it, instead seating themselves across from him with a scowl. The man's companion, a young girl in her own uniform, glared at them fiercely.

Before the E.U. representative could withdraw his hand, Lelouch stepped forward and shook it firmly. "Lelouch vi Britannia. It is a pleasure to meet you. I will only be observing today."

"General Smilas. I lost to your mother once.”

"So have I," Lelouch said, dispersing the rising tension. "Although probably not in the same context."

General Smilas laughed and pulled out his seat. "My apologies for the accommodations. After our last, shall we say, vocal disagreement, the locals asked for us to move somewhere less disruptive. I hope the accommodations are acceptable." His smile wished the opposite and left no doubt who had chosen the room. "I also brought along my adjutant, Leila Malcal, so she may learn about negotiations. For our young onlookers, let's make sure to be civil?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Schneizel replied easily, as Guinevere visibly bristled by his side.

Thus, the painfully long negotiations began. At the first hour mark, Lelouch caught the eye of the blond girl sitting across from him, seemingly just as flabbergasted at the ease with which underhanded insults and backhanded compliments flew between technical details regarding extradition. General Smilas returned or deflected each barb with a calm smile as Guinevere and Schneizel continued their verbal assaults. Despite her dour personality, Guinevere had grown up in court and was a master of word games. Similarly, Lelouch was used to seeing Schneizel weave through his opponents before they even realized what he had done.

General Smilas's fortitude was impressive, especially for having sat across the negotiation table for so long. On the other hand, it was abundantly clear why so little progress had been achieved. Both sides were more eager to claim a meaningless victory than reach an agreement. So when Schneizel suggested a break, it was unsurprising that no progress had been made although a page of garbled and crossed out notes rested on the table.

Lelouch sat silently as his siblings left and the two E.U. officers pulled out flasks and a prepackaged meal. His siblings didn't wish him to interfere, yet his father wanted the negotiations brought to a conclusion. He had said Lelouch's performance was satisfactory. Suggested that Nunnally would need to become of use. Euphie was only granted so much freedom because her sister held his father's favor for her victories in Africa. The bare minimum was perhaps enough to protect himself, but not his sister.

He would have to do more. Push himself even further. Failure was never an option and this was just another task his father had set for him despite lacking clear objectives. So he would have to succeed where his siblings could not and preferably before his absence from the division became too long.

"You're not eating, Your Highness?" General Smilas asked, setting down his food. "There is plenty of time to grab a meal. Or at least a drink of water.”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably at how vulnerable the kitchens were. "I had a large breakfast"--he had barely drunk a glass of milk, too nervous about the upcoming meeting with his father--"and seeing that I've hardly spoken, I don't need anything to drink."

"I could sure use one," General Smilas muttered. "And what have you learned, Your Highness, from watching us negotiate?"

"It's similar to a married couple's bickering," he answered dryly.

Adjutant Malcal snorted some water. Between her coughs, she choked out, "There is a familiar resemblance."

Taking a risk, Lelouch said, "Perhaps you should propose, General. You're halfway there already and it would resolve your dilemma."

General Smilas glared at his subordinate who grinned unabashedly. "Apparently kids are the same wherever you go as well."

"I'm most certainly not like some Britannian prince, General," she shot back, crossing her arms.

"You're both cracking jokes," he replied. "But I must say, I'm surprised at your presence, Your Highness. From what I hear, you tend to be surprisingly reclusive, considering who your mother is."

Watching Adjutant Malcal grow more serious, Lelouch wondered what her connection to his mother was. Twice now, the general had mentioned her, almost like a warning. Still, he kept his body relaxed and answered, "I would be happy to not be here, but apparently it's not proper for me to hide all the time. What about yourself, Adjutant Malcal? That's an important position, isn't it?"

She stiffened and didn't say a word.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend," Lelouch said quickly. If his siblings were playing hardball without success, then he needed to try the soft approach. It worked wonders when gathering information or interrogating suspects despite being painfully slow.

"None taken," General Smilas reassured. "Just a sensitive subject. Leila's parents died when she was young and she has been my protegee ever since."

"My condolences," Lelouch murmured. It would just be his luck if her parents died fighting his mother.

The door opened, ending any further conversation, and his siblings sat down in front of the table, resuming the negotiations. As the sun began to set, their meeting finally concluded and they watched General Smilas and Adjutant Malcal leave without a word. Nothing had been accomplished today.

"I hope this was enlightening, Lelouch. Guinevere and I have it handled as you can see. Perhaps you could try your hand at negotiations to secure a better room?" Schneizel asked, smiling genially.

"Don't worry. I will be here tomorrow," Lelouch said and Guinevere scowled. "After all, the Emperor personally insisted that I attend. I will see what I can do about the accommodations when I have time." 

Guinevere grabbed his shoulder, her nails digging beneath his collarbone. "Father thinks he can replace me with a low born such as yourself? Do you think so highly of yourself that you think you can do better?"

Schneizel raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Of course not," Lelouch mocked. "I know nothing of negotiation, that is why I'm here to learn. Now, let go. Your failures are none of my concern."

"Peace, brother," Schneizel said and peeled away Guinevere's hand. "We're all just tired from a long day. Did you notice anything we may have missed, Lelouch?"

"I don't think so. Why did the adjutant's presence bother you?"

"Leila Breisgau," Guinevere spat. "Her family defected to the E.U., yet General Smilas flaunts her before us as if we hadn't requested her return multiple times. He is mocking us."

"Probably," Lelouch absently agreed. "Goodnight, Guinevere. Schneizel."

General Smilas had claimed her parents were dead, which if true, meant they had probably been assassinated. Important then, supported by the name sounding vaguely familiar. But there hadn't been any defections in the past few years to warrant such action which suggested her parents were at fault. A successful child of a pair of traitors... Most likely, she was supposed to be dead as well. The general was playing a cruel game to risk her life to bait Britannia.

Did he care for her so little?

More importantly, did she know?

* * *

**Ashford Academy**

Much had changed for Kallen since the invasion of her homeland. Every day, as she rode to school in her family's limousine and looked outside, she was reminded that no matter how much she detested the changes, it could be worse. Much worse. Her people were starving out in the streets, while she lived a life of luxury and rubbed elbows with their oppressors.

Her older brother, Naoto had forgotten his promise to fight to pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. And no matter how much she wanted to begrudge him for living as a random Britannian and working in the Tokyo Memorial Hospital, she couldn't. He was a good doctor. Helping both Britannains and Numbers. Despite abandoning the fight, he was still doing more than her.

She slammed her locker shut and winced as the other students stared at her in surprise. Blend in. That was what her father told her. Her brother. And even when she finally thought she would do something special, something new, she was told to play nice with the nobles. Not draw attention. 

Too young they had said. Too young to hold a gun and fight. If she only had a chance, then she could prove herself.

"You're alright, Kallen?" Shirley, ever cheerful, asked.

"Of course," Kallen said because anything else would blow her over. She was the daughter of a wealthy lord with connections to Lord Ashford. What did she have to be upset about? Her step-mother was well regarded and her father frequently traveled securing new business deals. 

Shirley regarded her suspiciously. "I promise I won't tell anyone if there's anything. Your secrets will be safe with me."

"Truly, it's nothing. I guess I'm just a little nervous about today's P.E. class."

"You'll be fine," Shirley reassured and put away her own bag in the locker. "You do fencing. At least you know how to fight. Can you imagine me hurting someone? When Casey hit her head during swim practice, I threw up."

Kallen patted her back awkwardly. "I'm sure you will do fine."

Despite being Britannian, Shirley seemed nice enough. She was always exceptionally kind to everyone, but also sickeningly naive. 

As they exited the changing room, a blond girl pointed her cane at them. "Shirley. Allie’s going in the simulators and Milly disappeared. You need to be my eyes."

Shirley, being nice as she was, readily agreed to the blind girl's request, but also being the devil-in-disguise, insisted Kallen should join them. Kallen watched the two gossip and flushed as she suddenly realized who the girl was: Nunnally Lamperouge, the Middle School President. Someone that Kallen had steadfastly avoided throughout her school years. Whenever her brother visited, the girls would swoon over his military uniform or his two friends. It was sickening.

"Oh, my apologies," Nunnally said abruptly, as she turned and extended a hand vaguely in her direction. "I'm Nunnally. I'm afraid I don't recognize your voice."

"Kallen Stadtfeld. We haven't met." She shook her hand and warily watched as recognition flitted across the girl's face. She was supposed to be avoiding attention from the military, not catch the attention of some soldier's sister.

"A pleasure. We should head into Tokyo to have lunch--"

"Nunnally!" A piercing scream cut her off and a small pink hellion crashed into her. "It's so good to see you."

"Euphie!" Nunnally stepped back, smiling widely. "I can't believe you finally managed to convince, Co--your sister. This is amazing!"

Euphie twirled away, curtsying to them. "Are these your friends?"

"That's Shirley"--Who waved hesitantly--"she is on the student council and super sweet, but never let her into the kitchen. Brother banned her years ago. And that's Kallen. She's amazing at fencing"--Kallen’s eyes widened--"and they're both good friends of mine," Nunnally finished.

Thankfully, Shirley saved her from answering, "It's always nice to meet Nunnally's friends. Welcome to Ashford Academy. Your sister has nothing to worry about. How did you meet each other anyway?"

"Oh, a long time ago. We played together as kids and kept in touch.” Euphie grinned wickedly. "We used to fight over who would marry Lelouch."

Kallen stared at her in horror. "You too?"

"You don't like my brother?" Nunnally asked, looking strangely enthralled by the prospect.

Warily, Kallen answered, "I'm not too fond of the military."

"Finally! Finally someone has some common sense. Come on, you're my new eyes. I need some sanity around me." Nunnaly pulled her towards the viewing deck to overlook multiple knightmare simulators installed in what had been the gym.

Behind them, Shirley eagerly quizzed Euphie on her life. The girl answered the barrage of questions as if nothing could fluster her. That was until Shriley asked, "So what does your sister do?"

Euphie fell silent and rested on the bannister sending anxious glances at Nunnally.

"Euphie doesn't like to talk about it," Nunnally answered as if nothing was amiss. "She thinks it's embarrassing. Like there's anything embarrassing about having a Colonel as a sister."

Kallen swallowed, suddenly pressed between two girls with siblings who she wanted nothing to do with. Her eyes wandered over to Euphie, burying her face in her hands. There was another reason she hadn't wanted to say anything. Only a noble could become a Colonel which begged the question how Euphie and Nunnally knew another. 

Narrowing her eyes at Nunnally, Kallen wondered why she had suddenly declared them friends. Yes, Ashford Academy had grown more casual over the years and commoners and nobles easily interacted, but nobody declared friendship that easily. And Nunnally had recognized her name, meaning she was aware of the class divide between the two. 

Behind her innocent face, what was she planning? Or had attending a Britannian school finally caused her to snap. Suspecting the blind girl of something nefarious? She couldn't even walk unattended. 

Still, her stomach refused to settle.

"Oh, that's Allie! It's her turn," Shirley cried. "Do you think she'll do well?"

Nunnally shrugged easily. "Well, it's her first time. She'll do just fine. She has something to fight for." 

True to her assertion, the round finished and her name flashed on the screen, moving to the top of the scoreboard. Nunnally only smiled knowingly at the news, and Kallen watched Allie curiously as she joined them, ignoring the whispers of her being a potential ace. 

The girl walked with confidence with her brown hair neatly held in a ponytail despite the sweat glistening on her face. She greeted Shirley warmly, but narrowed her eyes at Euphie whispering into Nunnally's ear and cleared her throat. 

Immediately, Nunnally turned around to congratulate her friend. When they separated, their hands were still intertwined, and Allie stood proudly, smirking at Euphie.

"Group five," the announcer shouted and Kallen grimaced.

"Good luck," Shirley whispered. "You will do just fine."

Kallen entered the simulator with a frown. The controls beckoned to her. This was Britannia's instrument of power. She so desperately wanted to rip it out of their clutches and turn the machine against their troops, so they would know terror. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she would be gifted at knightmare combat. An ace herself. Someone capable of standing up against the terror of a Knight of the Round.

Then maybe, she would finally be allowed to actually fight instead of being a stupid observer. No matter how many reassurances she received that her role was important, useful, she couldn't see it. Who was she kidding? She couldn't risk drawing attention to herself.

She glanced backup at the observation deck and the clustered students. Shirley's bright red hair was easy to spot as she talked animatedly to Nunnally. Euphie waved and Kallen hesitantly returned it. 

No. She couldn't risk it, especially having somehow caught their attention. She was entirely too close to the military for comfort.

With a sigh, she settled down in the simulator and the hatch closed. The start-up sequence played with a helpful tutorial on the controls. Rolling her eyes, she followed the instructions as her heart hammered, waiting for the real test to begin. She couldn't lose too quickly. That would be embarrassing. 

How long had Allie been in the simulator? Ten minutes? Then she would survive for five.

The timer in the right counted down: 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

A familiar landscape stretched out around her and she bit back a sob. Tokyo. Tokyo in all its glory as the sun rose and reflected off the towering skyscrapers. Tokyo with neon ads displaying painfully familiar and nostalgic products. 

The timer in the lower right corner was blinking. Over the stereo, she could hear garbled orders, but none of that mattered. This was Tokyo in a form that she had thought was permanently lost.

And she was in a knightmare in a startlingly empty city as the alarms began to blare. The absolute bastards! It wasn't enough to wipe away her heritage. The Britannains had to use it for their little war games.

A modified knightmare frame approached with the flag of Japan painted on the chassis. 

Liars. All of them liars. Japan didn't have knightmares to defend themselves, but that would have looked bad telling a bunch of students to destroy little tanks. Would reveal that the conquest hadn't been just or honorable, but a one-sided slaughter.

She dodged the mockery's strike and growled. Her vision blurred as she surged forward and drove her hand through its neck joint. It deserved death for its mockery. It fell to the ground. Her eyes continued to sting. 

More knightmares approached. Through the open channel, they hurled insults at her in Japanese and English. 

Were these the recordings of dead men? Their last final words as a Britannian monster stood above them, ready to bathe the land in their blood. There were no cries for mercy in English. But she could hear the familiar Japanese words. The begging to those who would never listen and enjoyed their destruction.

She tore through another knightmare. Another mockery and erasure of the truth. Britannia wanted to be seen as just. Yet, this is what they did? They couldn't even let the dead lie in peace. Instead digging them up and using their voices for their own amusement.

More and more knightmares, spray painted with ridiculous caricatures that were supposed to pass as kanji, streamed in. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. They surrounded her, and, while they shouted threats in English, she could hear their pleas in Japanese.

She wouldn't lose to these... abominations.

One down. Two down. Her right arm caught in their grasp. She ejected it and fired a slash harken through the ridiculous false face. 

All of it, lies. 

And no matter how many she defeated. They kept coming. Kept flooding the area. Infinite and without respite like the Britannian army. They deserved to rot in hell and their stupid Emperor to be burned at the stake just like how he set cities aflame.

The timer on the bottom right corner changed from white to blue. Seven minutes.

Kallen froze, staring at it, and then the carnage she had left behind. 

She didn't move as an enemy unit fired at her. The screen froze and everything grew still. What had she done? Perhaps this was still average. 

Her eyes took in the destruction once more visible behind the unit that had defeated her. Those were supposed to be her countrymen. More importantly, people. Half of the downed knightmares hadn't ejected.

Her skin slowly peeled away from the controls. She had murdered them... acted like a Britannian. It wasn't real. A simulation. Yet it hadn't felt like that in the moment.

The hatch opened, and she stumbled out. 

"Thank you for serving your country today. Britannia needs your help to defend our glorious nation against terrorists and savage invaders. Apply to the knightmare corps today and rise to fame," the machine announced cheerfully.

She threw up. Around her people shouted, but she couldn't focus. Her hands were so painfully clean. She was a killer. 

"Oh, Kallen." They helped her to her feet and led her to a small bench, shoving a towel and bucket into her hands. "Motion sickness?"

Kallen nodded. Nobody else had thrown up. Some had been rattled. Especially the younger students, yet none had thrown up. What was wrong with them? To think nothing of killin?. And what was Kallen to have mindlessly lost herself to undignified rage?

As the next round began with a loud announcement, Milly sat down beside her and shooed a concerned Shirley away. She joined an anxious Euphie, Nunnally, and Allie who hovered in the distance, watching. 

"You alright?" Milly asked as she rubbed her back. "Grandfather wants to talk to you."

Kallen nodded, and the weight of failure settled across her shoulders. The girl knew the truth about her heritage. "How badly did I do?"

"Well... The scores are submitted automatically. You did very well... Too well. You'll have recruiters knocking on your door by this evening. I'm sorry. I don't know how to help. But Grandfather has a plan."

"I could just say no?" Kallen suggested, not wanting to meet the man who had forced her family into an agreement. It could be worse. He could've taken advantage of them. But she could never forget the feeling of terror when he discovered the truth. He held all the cards. 

Milly chuckled nervously. "No. I don't imagine they will let you. Best you'll be able to argue is that you should finish your schooling first. But you're old enough. And they'll ask questions. Ask why you don't want to serve. And questions lead to inquiry. If you hadn't done as well, maybe, you could have a choice. Unfortunately, you're an ace."

"How?" Kallen gasped as her ears roared. "Allie was in the simulator for almost ten minutes. She survived longer than I did."

"It's not measured on time," Millie answered. "She spent more time dodging than you obviously bothered to do. We'll figure something out."

"Thank you." That was all that could be said.

Milly nodded and stood up and her friends coalesced around with worried questions. Eventually, they wandered off, convinced by Kallen's halfhearted insistence that she was fine. There was nothing they could do. Nunnally though, she waited even as her best friend left. Silently, she sat down on the bench beside her.

"I'm sorry," Nunnally simply said.

"Not your fault. I just got motion sick. Nothing a bit of practice won't cure."

"No. I know you hate the army, and it's unfair that they'll pressure you to join. I could... I asked Allie what the simulation was." She fell silent. "I can't believe... No, I can. They shouldn't have done that. There are better ways to gauge someone's aptitude."

Kallen laughed hoarsely, wondering how the girl knew what was truly bothering her. "Isn't your brother in the army? Must be mighty familiar."

"He actually hates knightmares. Do you know how much the ground shakes when they walk past? It's like an earthquake. Or a bomb. I didn't even know what it was the first time."

"How?" Kallen asked because that sounded personal and she had to judge the obviously Britannian girl in a new light. Everyone had secrets. But finding a potential ally at Ashford, someone who could understand, wasn't something she was expecting. Especially one with a brother in the military.

"My mother pilots a knightmare," Nunnally answered. The answer felt inadequate and the silence stretched between them. Finally, she relented, "My brother helps with security for Lord Ashford when he visits. I don't think he knows that he is supposed to relax because he's always busy. Last time, Lord Ashford banned anyone from giving him a job, so he snuck into the city to take a part time position as a line cook. But I  _ know. _ "

"I'm relevant to Ashford's security?" Kallen asked, her stomach sinking. She was supposed to blend in. Not attract attention. Those were her orders. She hadn't done anything to garner suspicion in years.

"Of course. You're on the threat index," Nunnally answered. 

"I never did anything," Kalen spat. All her effort in vain, foiled by her blood. Yes, she was a traitor, biding her time, but she hadn't even done anything yet.

"You're not the only one on there," Nunnally reassured.

"And what can I do? Haven't I done everything asked of me? Met everyone's expectations?"

"Go see Lord Ashford. He's the ruler of this little fiefdom no matter how much he delegates the public facing front to Milly," she answered before leaving her alone to drown in the misery of her thoughts.

* * *

**Tokyo Memorial Hospital, Area Eleven**

Naoto was not having a good day. Firstly, his secret sister, who had refused to talk to him for the past two years, was crying in one of the patient rooms after she had randomly shown up, muttering something incoherent about school before bursting into inconsolable sobs and mumbling Japanese swear words. Before any of the other doctors could question him, he had quickly secreted her away. Lord Ashford would be displeased if rumors began of the Stadtfeld heiress being at the hospital. 

Then, a trauma patient arrived with three bullet holes and a knife lodged between the ribs. The Knight Police was currently making a fuss in the lobby that the patient was a terrorist and they should relinquish him into their custody immediately, no matter how often, Naoto explained that the patient wasn't even stable. 

He was fairly certain that the patient wasn't part of any of the resistance groups that frequently sought medical care. His face was unfamiliar and his family fretting in the side lobby for Numbers were foreign. More likely, he had managed to escape whatever entertainment the Knight Police had in store for him.

Lastly, his friend Ohgi was whispering into his ear in hurried Japanese about some big operation they had discovered. While he was happy to fix them up and pass the occasional relevant tidbit of information along, he wasn't about to help plan an attack. That went beyond resistance and into actual terrorism.

"It's not terrorism," Ohgi snapped. "A military base. Look, it's super suspicious. Really hush-hush. We're not even saying we want to attack it, but if the--"

Naoto sidestepped into a patient's room and Ohgi growled, but waited outside.

"I don't care, Ohgi," he hissed as he returned. "It's too risky. I have a family to think about. If we're caught, what do you think will happen to them? My sister? So, no, I'm not going to poke around a wasp nest because you think there's something fishy. There is always something fishy."

"A sister who doesn't talk to you? Admit it, Naoto--"

"Nathan, it's Nathan here or do you want to get me arrested? Because the Knight Police in the lobby would love an excuse."

"Admit it,  _ Nathan _ , your sister turned her back on us when she realized it's easier being a Brit." Ohgi raised his hands as Naoto glared at him. "I don't really blame her. Half of our guys would lay down their arms if offered a position in the nobility. But you can't let that stop you. Where's the friend I knew? The one who wanted to fight? Or is he joining his sister to dance at the whim of some posh Brit."

Naoto checked the corridor and dragged his friend into a room and slammed the door shut. "Firstly, don't do this here. I work here or have you forgotten? I have pissed off the Knight Police well enough by patching up Tamaki when he shows up here because he had to get injured like an idiot. Why do you think I'm the only one to treat him? Because the other doctors have the common sense to not hang around a suspected terrorist. If it weren't for Ashford, I would be in prison already or  _ accidently _ shot. But if they ever find proof, then all the goodwill is gone and this hospital will be just like every other."

His pager buzzed and Naoto swore softly. If he had to explain one more time, he might just break his oath and stab the arrogant bastards in the lobby. It would be so satisfying.

Thankfully, Ohgi didn't move to stop him. "After work then? You know where we are."

"Maybe." Naoto paused. "Kallen came to visit actually. I don't--"

"I understand. Family first. Good luck, my old friend," Ohgi said with a sad smile.

In the lobby, Naoto raised an eyebrow as the nurse gestured at three young girls in a familiar uniform. "May I help you, ladies?"

"We'd like to volunteer," the blond girl announced.

Naoto glanced at the nurse who shrugged. "If you'll follow me, I'm sure we can find something... age appropriate." 

Briskly, he walked past the glowering Knight Police and through the door. Finally, he arrived at the storage room. "Everything here needs to be sorted. Ask for Dr. Walker if you need anything." He was forgetting something. "Right, your names?"

The blond girl turned around before facing him, her eyes looking past him. "Nunnally Lamperouge. And this is Allie Welch and Euphie Lichtberg."

He shifted and her eyes didn't track him. She was blind. Maybe it was just a coincidence? No, Lord Ashford was going to kill him. He was strangely overprotective of her brother for an indiscernible reason. Most likely, that extended to her as well. And if he didn't kill him, then Lelouch would. 

"Does your brother know about this? You're not even fourteen!"

Nunnally scowled. "He's not my keeper. Besides, it's just a few more months. And, brother--" Her mouth snapped shut.

"Please," the other girl, Euphie, begged. "We'll do everything you ask."

"You're going home," Naoto growled. "It's not safe coming here. What if you had been mugged?"

Nunnally's lower lip quivered. "But if we return to school, wouldn't that be dangerous as well? If you're so worried, you could escort us home."

"Just for today," he said. Her face smoothed out, revealing the previous act and he knew he had fallen into some sort of trap.

"I'll be back tomorrow then and if you're so concerned--"

"Your brother will murder me if anything happens. You're not going."

"You can't stop me."

Both Lamperouge siblings were officially annoying. "If we're doing this, you'll wait for me to pick you up at the end of school and then for me to return you, understood?"

The three girls nodded.

He spun around. "Come on, I'm sure I can find some bedpans for you to clean."

An hour later, he finally managed to take his overdue lunch break. It was dinner time. Lucy Swiston, a fellow doctor, sat down beside him and handed him an apple. "Our special patient is stable now, but somehow the Knight Police are under the impression he's suffering from a rare disease. I don't know what to say."

"Lucy, you're an angel," Naoto said, closing his eyes. "Is it contagious?"

"Very. They're terribly lucky to not have contracted it already,” she said and through half lidded eyes, he watched her steal a fry of his. "What's up with those students who came by today? Harry says you asked to change your schedule immediately after seeing them."

He groaned. "You know Soldier Boy, the one who likes to pick fights with the Knight Police? The blond one is his sister."

"Ahh. The way he talked about his sister, I thought she was eight. Not thirteen. Although I think the Knight Police might hate him more than you. The two of them aren't that bad though for soldiers. When they first asked to volunteer, I thought it was some sort of trick."

That had been an interesting day to say the least. Lelouch and Frederick, their posture screaming military, had quietly asked if they could volunteer. Consistently understaffed,--because what Brit wanted to work in the Number hospital?--the nurse had been hesitant to turn them down. Naoto, fresh on the job and starting his residency, had watched as Lucy told them no.

"How many regulations did he quote back at you?" Naoto joked.

"Ugh. Too many. Kid just didn't give up. I told them I was busy, left for three hours, and they were still there. Sitting in the damn lobby, waiting patiently. I was pleasantly surprised, but he just refused to leave. Kept asking how he could help. Think he was almost begging at the end and I was wishing we actually had some damn security to throw them out."

"And then the Knight Police came."

"That was after. First came some Eleven with a three inch piece of glass sticking out his neck and the Brits in the lobby are just yelling because it's the wrong lobby and he's getting his dirty blood on the floor or whatever. His friend is switching between shouting for a doctor and swearing in Japanese at them. Some man, built like a knightmare, got too close for comfort so he pulls out a gun and I'm just standing before him, terrified, trying to convince him to put down the gun and let me help his friend."

Naoto frowned. That had never been mentioned.

"I swore the staff to secrecy afterwards. And we scrubbed the security recording. Turns out when all cleaning staff and such is Numbers, they're surprisingly helpful when you're trying to help one of their own. But I'm terrified for my life, and Lelouch steps up to the man and doesn't even flinch when the gun is pointed at him. Frederick was yelling at him not to be an idiot. And Lelouch? He just talks to the man in Japanese."

"Japanese?" Naoto asked and swallowed nervously. What conversation had Lelouch overheard?

"Yeah, Japanese. Couldn't believe it myself. Here's some soldier and instead of arresting him or something, he talks him down and takes the gun. Even talks to the patient, calms him down so he willingly goes inside with me. I passed him to a nurse, and returned to beg him to be silent, but the Knight Police had already arrived. Lelouch just lied to their faces saying he hadn't seen any terrorists and of course people when injured can be confused. There wasn't a gun, just the guy's keys."

"And the next thing I know, there's some kid hanging around trauma begging to be taught stitches," Naoto said. "Really, though. Why did you choose to trust them? Not that I dislike them..."

Lucy leaned back and stole another french fry. "Do you know how much they paid me to move to Britannia? Even afterwards, I got more job offers than what I knew what to do with. Lord Ashford pays well, but not that well. I took this job because I want to save lives, not just some rich asshole's. You're here to save the lives of your fellow Numbers. They saved a man's life despite their career, and maybe they can save more."

Naoto stared at her cautiously. "How did you know?"

"Next time be more discreet when your sister arrives. Besides, it feels like something Lord Ashford would do." Her pager buzzed. "Don't worry. I'll drive the kids back to their boarding school. Go spend time with your sister."

Cleaning up his meal, he rose and carried it to the room where he had bid Kallen to hide hours prior. She sat in the armchair in the corner, tear tracks glistening on her cheek and hugging her legs, but seemed to have finally calmed down. She even smiled as he entered and his heart soared. It had been too long.

"Your... visit was a surprise," he began awkwardly and held out his lunch remains. "Dinner?"

Her hands shaking, she grabbed it and wolfed down the rice. "Thank you, Nii-san. I just... it's been a while, hasn't it?"

He chuckled and kneeled beside her. "I thought you hated me. You just went dark. I missed you, Kallen. What happened?"

"I..." She looked away. "I don't hate you. But I shouldn't have come. This was silly."

As she rose, Naoto pulled her into a hug and fresh sobs racked her body. "What happened today? Please, let me help you once more. Even if it's just today."

And through broken sobs, she shared how she had fought in the knightmare simulation. And done well. Too well. He pulled her tighter, not knowing what he would do if his baby sister was sent off to war, even if she was fighting from the safety of a knightmare. Finally, she pulled away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm sorry."

"Come on," he whispered and guided her by the shoulder. "Let me drive you home."

"People will see."

"Just one night won't hurt."

In front of the familiar home where once he had played in the front yard, he let Kallen out. She stood in the cool night air, her cloak drawn tightly, but didn't head inside. "Thank you for reminding me what it means to be Japanese."

"Kallen!" he shouted as she turned to leave. He passed her a tissue. "Don't let your step-mother see. Come here. If you... I'll always be here for you even if it means sacrificing everything else."

She hugged him tightly, strangling his lungs. When she pulled away, her face was firm. "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

Whatever fragile connection had formed between them was gone. And he had no idea what he had done to sever it. He watched her enter the house, desperately hoping she would turn around once more. She didn't.

On the drive home, thoughts plagued him as he wondered what was wrong. What he could have done differently. Because she needed help. Every part of her was screaming for it. Yet, no pleas escaped her lips. Exhausted, he fell into bed fully clothed. Two hours later, unable to sleep, he stood up and grabbed his coat.

His feet wandered through Tokyo aimlessly. He passed the ghosts of childhood nostalgia hiding under the Britannian constructions replacing them. Eventually, he found himself in the ghetto, slurping at a bowl of ramen as an old lady watched him with curious eyes, and eagerly accepted his cash. A familiar enka playing mournfully. When was the last time Kallen had ramen? Udon? Onigiri? 

Did her step-bitch ever bother to learn what Kallen's favorite foods were? Her favorite color? Her favorite song? All those years ago when Lord Ashford arrived, he should have kept his mouth shut. Then maybe, he wouldn't have lost Kallen. Was there even time still to bridge the gap?

Dodging a Knight Police patrol, he wandered deeper into the ghetto, searching for an answer. Instead, he found himself before Ohgi's door. 

"Naoto? It's four in the morning," his old friend mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You look like shit. What are you doing here?"

"I'll help," he announced and the answer felt so right. How foolish of him to think Kallen could ever find happiness if she was forced to hide. Surviving wasn't enough. "Whatever you need, I'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
> \- The wiki got the year Nunnally was born wrong. Unfortunately, I’ve been using her birthdate to calculate her age, so Nunnally will still be thirteen for Shinjuku events. This discovery is quite annoying.
> 
> \- I watched Akito… it wasn’t great. So I’m borrowing Leila and Smilas and throwing the rest in the garbage. I’m also changing their personality slightly to conform better with what I think their character was supposed to be rather than how they came across.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> And thus begins books 2. Sorry for the delay, unfortunately 2020 has been rather mercurial and I’m a fool to have thought I could plan ahead. 
> 
> To all of you who asked me where Kallen was, she has arrived. I didn’t include her in the last fic because she’s been doing a whole lot of nothing for the majority of the time and that would’ve been boring to read. A lot more of the anime cast will be showing up, expanding my character soup, and hopefully making you happy.
> 
> I’m debating whether or not I will need to update my rating for mature themes as the last book definitely pushed that rating at times. But unfortunately a lot of people will take that to mean smut… which I’m not writing. 
> 
> I’ll be updating every other week, at this time, for the foreseeable future.
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing


	2. A Tangled Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur

_ Surprising everyone, the Butcher of  _ _ Plage Eclair has allowed her son to attend the negotiations in Australia. Will our loyal French citizens be allowed to return? Or does Prince Lelouch’s presence hint to something more dire? The question on everyone’s mind is whether he takes after his mother. Or, as Britannian rumors suggest, is an imbecile. It is too soon to tell, but sources within the embassy describe him as naive and childish.  _

_ Perhaps there is hope that he takes more after the Prince Oddysseus, the Fool’s Prince, than Empress Marianne. _

_ —Point de Vue:  _ _ Son of the Flash Steps into the Spotlight _

* * *

**Stadtfeld Manor, Area Eleven**

The door slammed shut, echoing through the house. Kallen ignored the outraged cry from her step-mother and threw herself on the bed. She should have never lost control of herself in that knightmare. The whispers followed through her school and, even after hours, she could not escape them. 

Lord Ashford had been clear. She was an ace and would be recruited into the army: willing or not.

A year's worth of planning down the drain.

The only silver lining was Lord Ashford needed a test pilot. Everyday afterschool, she was escorted to his labs to pilot one of his prototypes. Guiltily, she admitted that it was fun. There were no simulations, instead agility tests on the expansive testing grounds. She could feel herself improving each day as she pushed the knightmare to its literal breaking point. 

She knew she could do more. Shred through the tests. Annihilate her opponents. Caution stayed her hand. She didn’t want to know what she was capable of or consider how Britannia would make use of her.

In another life, she could've used her abilities for the JLF. Even in an older generation, she was sure she would've become a credible threat on the battlefield. But now her name was known and if an ace pilot magically appeared on the battlefield, she would naturally be under suspicion.

She was trapped.

Polite knocking roused her from her pity party and she tore open the door, ready to give her step-mother a piece of her mind. Instead, the servant boy,—Japanese although she suspected he was of mixed heritage like herself because of his brown hair—stood there, waiting. 

"Miss Sumerragi is here to see you, my lady," he said.

She grimaced. What rumor had made Kaguya deem an in-person visit necessary? 

The boy stood perfectly still before her as he waited for an answer. He was one of Kaguya's. One of the many Japanese agents sent to her so they could learn how to act like a servant. They cycled through her house and to other noble families. Kallen's step-mother was always over the moon when she heard the compliment at how well behaved "their Elevens" were.

But unlike the others, the boy only left as to not arouse suspicion. Kaguya had asked her to maintain his education, so Kallen shared her coursework with him. Was he here only to spy on her and make sure that Kallen's loyalty would never waver?

"I guess I shouldn't keep her waiting," Kallen said.

"That would be best, my lady."

"Is she mad?" she asked hesitantly.

"Miss Sumeragi didn't appear displeased, my lady. She brought some mochi with her."

Kallen shook her head and walked past him. She couldn't hide from this forever. Down the stairs in the foyer, she spotted her friend and handler. "Kaguya. It's wonderful to see you."

She giggled. "You're too kind. Come on. I brought pastries to celebrate the good news. I can't believe I'm friends with an ace."

"An ace?" Kallen's step-mother shouted, her head peeking out of the neighboring room. "Kallen, dear, why didn't you tell me? I shouldn't be hearing this from your friend."

Kallen's false smile disappeared and Kaguya winced at her glare. Voice high, Kallen called back, "Sorry Mother. It's just so overwhelming. I haven't even processed it yet. Don't worry, we can discuss it over dinner, but I shouldn't keep our guest waiting."

Thankfully, her step-mother bought the lie and tittered, letting them leave.

Kaguya's servant/bodyguard set the pastries down on a small garden table and retreated to a respectful distance. The servant boy followed shortly after despite his blatant curiosity.

"We're safe," Kallen said, cutting through their idle chit-chat.

"You should've told me the second you found out," Kaguya said crossly.

Kallen bit back the instinctive urge to defend herself. "I know I messed up and I should've said something... I didn't know what to do."

"You didn't mess up." Kaguya took a sip of her tea, staring at the two servants nearby. "This is an opportunity."

"I'm an untapped ace," Kallen said bitterly. "Lord Ashford was quite clear. I will be expected to join the army. If I don't, they'll begin pressuring my family, asking why weren't not proudly serving our country. With my heritage, we can't afford that sort of scrutiny. And if they do find out, I won't be able to say no anymore. So tell me, Kaguya, how is this an opportunity instead of a living nightmare?"

"I fail to see an issue. You'll join the military and with your status you will have access to untold information. As an ace, I'm sure you'll rise quickly to a trusted and influential position."

"You're insane," Kallen hissed. "I'll have to follow orders. Fight Britannia's enemies. Kill our people. I'm fighting for Japan, not against her."

"When you started this, didn't you agree that you would do anything?" Kaguya set down her tea cup and her eyes bore into her. "You didn't want to cozy up to your step-mother, but you did, and attended the noble parties to establish a reputation for yourself. To protect that reputation you stopped seeing Naoto, shunning him in case the truth was ever revealed. You said you would sacrifice everything to allow your little brother to know a free Japan. This is just the next step."

"No, it's not," Kallen said firmly. "I've told you I want to fight and actually do something. Instead, you have me playing nice with the nobles and training servants. If you want to keep me off the battlefield, fine. But I refuse to be on the opposite side."

"Are you truly going to sacrifice everything for some foolish ideal of what is right?" Kaguya sighed. "I could force you. A simple word in the right ear and the JLF would rescind our protection of the hospital he works at. I know all your secrets. How many do you think you can afford to lose before they arrest you for treason and destroy your family?"

Kallen should never have agreed to this endeavor. She had been young, stupid, and so eager to strike out. Naoto was constantly shielding her, refusing to let her do anything more than provide supplies. And then he refused to fight at all, instead focusing entirely on medicine. So when Kaguya laid out the first clue and test of loyalties, she had pounced and sprung the trap. 

She wanted this. She could never escape.

"If I do this, I'd become a Britannian," she finally said. "And yes, you could force me. But do the benefits outweigh the risks? People know I dislike the military and if I voluntarily walk into their arms, they'll ask questions. Working for Lord Ashford, I can at least postpone the inevitable. Eventually, they'll forget."

"There are so few aces, that you can memorize each and everyone's name. I doubt they'll forget, but if you insist, I won't push further." Kaguya bit into a mochi, eyes closing. "I admit I'm jealous of you. To still stand there and think of yourself as Japanese. We'll all become Britannian eventually. Have to, if we want a chance to win. Do you know when Kaguya Sumeragi died?"

"No," Kallen answered, surprised by the sudden melancholy.

"When she turned her father in for treason." She laughed bitterly. "He was going to oust the JLF and destroy our last hope of resistance, so I did the Britannian thing to save Japan. Sometimes I wonder if there's anything of Japan left in me. I wouldn't have survived court if I didn't act like them. When this is all over, I’ll be an empty husk."

"And if we don't hurry, you'll be some prince's broodmare," Kallen said, pursing her lips.

"Not if I'm executed for treason," Kaguya joked. "Don't worry too much. I've always played to win and should it come to that, I have options."

"Your mysterious friend at court will save you," Kallen teased.

Kaguya wrinkled her nose. "I wish. Unfortunately his ambitions seem limited to trading favors and making fools of the nobility."

"That sounds dangerous to do at court."

"Somewhere, he lost his self-preservation instinct. Near gave me a heart attack when he staged an accident so he could escape the party twenty minutes early. Of course that backfired because apparently his father caught wind of it and decided to check that his son was still alive." 

Kaguya chuckled, then grew somber. "Things aren't going to stay peaceful for much longer, Kallen. United East Africa is in its death throes and the E.U. is pretending to be concerned, but they're just using the time to supplement their small army of knightmares and whatever they cooked up in their labs. Their negotiations with Britannia is nothing but a sham and they're milking every minute of it to garner popular support. Meanwhile, the Eunuchs have been undermining their Empress as they hammer out a marriage contract and ensure they have luxurious titles awaiting them after their betrayal."

Once, Kallen would've been surprised. But Kaguya had opened her eyes to the broader world and her weekly luncheons with her step-mother and local nobles meant she kept abreast of rumors. 

"We thought we had more time until our reckoning came. We're just waiting for the dominoes to begin to fall and then hope we have the ability to stand against Zero." She paused. "But we're out of time. The Emperor has grown impatient with negotiations and sent... It'll end soon and while General Smilas played Prince Schniezel, I suspect he'll have a harder time with him and thus the first domino will fall, and not in the direction we hoped."

Kallen searched her memory, trying to find someone who could be considered a challenge to Prince Schneizel. Surely, they would be well known. "Who?"

After a moment of hesitation: "The son of Marianne the Flash, Lelouch vi Britannia."

Outside of a few unsavory rumors about his mother, she had barely heard of him, yet Kaguya saw him as a threat. "Is he an ace like his mother?"

Empress Marianne's prowess, even after her injury, struck fear in everyone's heart. To think there could be a younger, more energetic copy of her running around. They wouldn't stand a chance. Before Empress Marianne's recent withdrawal from the battlefield, information on her location fetched a hefty sum. If you couldn't defeat an enemy, the best plan was to not be there.

"Definitely not," Kaguya assured. Then why? "He mostly stays in the shadows. There are two types who stay out of sight. The weakling trying to survive and the predator biding his time. And unlike the rest of the royal family, he doesn't suffer from hubris. So he will succeed where Prince Schneizel could not. When that happens, war will soon follow and Kallen? Even Lord Ashford's patronage won't be able to keep you from the battlefield."

With that final warning, Kaguya bid farewell, leaving Kallen rooted to her seat. A storm was brewing and she was adrift at sea.

* * *

**Sydney, Australia**

Arthur Greenford dismissed the bellboy and scanned his hotel room. While most certainly not as lavish as his own estates, their accommodations would serve him and his nephew, Bedivere, well. It was only for a few weeks and most of their time would hopefully be spent with Princess Guinevere, who most certainly wouldn't have spared any expense.

"Quaint, isn't?" Bedivere asked, collapsing on the couch in a manner not befitting of his heir. 

Arthur stepped to the side to allow their entourage of servants inside. "Sacrificing comfort is a small price to pay."

Bedivere sneered and barked at a quivering Number, "Find my nice suits. I will present myself to Her Highness immediately and most certainly cannot wear this drab."

The Number hurried to comply and returned dragging a heavy trunk. Bedivere snarled at a maid to pick something appropriate before departing into the neighboring room to change. A soft knock on the door caught Arthur's attention and he turned around to see Frederick Oberstein loitering in the doorway, completely unruffled by the chaos around him.

"While your nephew sorts his affairs of the heart and the servants prepare the room, would you like to have a cup of tea?" Frederick asked.

"I would be delighted, my friend," Arthur said.

Frederick's rooms were smaller and decorated in a more reserved style. The room was pristine, except for the small desk buried beneath a pile of papers. As always, his friend drowned himself in work, never taking a vacation. The butler served the tea with practiced flourish before making himself scarce and leaving them to talk in private.

"Your nephew's courtship with Guinevere seems to be proceeding well," Frederick remarked. 

"Yes." Arthur frowned. "I fear he has lost sight of politics, blinded by his heart."

Frederick set down his teacup. "An unfortunate progression, especially with her losing favor with the Emperor."

"Whatever makes you say that?" Arthur asked and he added some sugar to his tea to hide his racing thoughts. "She and Prince Schneizel are trusted with negotiating with the E.U. A position of considerable influence, as we all have foreign trade and must curry favor with them."

"Ah, but there is another prince in the negotiating room now. Or have you forgotten?" Frederick smiled knowingly. "He is a curious one."

Arthur scowled. "You're obsessed with the Commoner's brat. He has done nothing of renown. The Emperor probably gave him the position to appease his witch of a wife."

"You are an old friend, so I'll correct your folly. Prince Lelouch has been playing everyone for a fool." He smirked. "You fell for his trap as well, seeing only his tarnished blood. In recent years, the Empire has passed a curious number of reforms and if you follow the trail, some key backers were approached by the prince."

"That doesn't mean anything." If it did, then Arthur had gravely miscalculated. In the early years, Prince Schneizel had done much the same, working from the shadows and annihilating his political opponents, before stepping up as the Prime Minister. Too many had been blindsided by his calm smiles; too many still were.

Frederick leaned back, his eyes unfocused. "Perhaps. But what I find most curious is that shortly after turning down Prince's Guinevere regular request for additional funds, the Emperor sends Prince Lelouch to the negotiating table. Knowing His Majesty's callous disregard for his children, they have been pitted against each other."

Arthur swallowed. He didn't want to publicly ally himself with Princess Guinevere yet. It was too soon to see which way the wind would blow. If he chose poorly, his legacy would suffer the fallout. But the only other clear contender for the throne was Prince Schneizel and Arthur refused to allow him to take the crown. Frederick, he was sure, felt similarly.

"I thought we would have a few more years… I guess the time has come then," Arthur murmured. 

"For the astute ones perhaps. The rest of the court will live in ignorance until the first public move is made." Frederick stroked his chin. "The world has changed since the Emblem of Blood, thus the rules will be different. Arthur, as your friend, I suggest you withdraw."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, wondering if it was a threat or warning. Frederick always had an uncanny understanding of where the winds would shift. It allowed him to raise his holdings from nothing to national prominence in just a lifetime. 

“You have reason to believe Princess Guinivere’s bid will fail?”

“Arthur…” Frederick’s hands curled around the tea cup. “Princess Guinevere aligns herself with the Purists who have been declining in power and influence.”

“Not in Area Eleven. Prince Clovis’s support has been instrumental and they only need an opportunity to reclaim the political stage.”

He leaned forward, his face grim. “And they have been plotting against their benefactor.”

“Jeremiah would never,” Arthur defended.

“Lord Kewell would and Jeremiah has always been too close to Lord Ashford and Empress Marianne for the Purists’ comfort. Distance yourself, Arthur, or their greed will be your demise as well.” Frederick checked his pocket watch, snapped it shut, and stood. "Apologies, Arthur. I have a business meeting. Feel free to finish your tea."

"Who are you backing?" Arthur asked as Frederick grabbed his hat.

He paused. "Britannia naturally. As for who is best for her, I haven't decided."

Listening to the footsteps fade, Arthur took a delicate sip of his tea. The butler entered the room and stood respectfully in the corner, waiting to be of use. His friend was a self-proclaimed coward. Naturally, he wouldn't share his plans and risk a knife to his back. Even to his old friend.

A coup within the Purist party. Unthinkable. Yet as he mulled, he could see the appeal. A Purist installed as the viceroy would grant them the political capital to see their goals achieved—the ability to play a deciding role in supporting the next Emperor. It was despicable that such plans had been made behind his back.

Lord Kewell was young, too young. His inexperience must be why Frederick felt confident that the Purists would fall. He never did care much for their platform. With Arthur’s guidance though, Prince Clovis would be revealed as a fool.

What Frederick hadn't said though concerned him. His brother, Rudolph. He had renounced the former Emperor Brandon because of Rudolph's untimely death. Despite claiming vengeance was incomplete, Frederick refused to elaborate, pretending that the matter was inconsequential.

Arthur snorted. 

Frederick may have been an accomplished liar, but he couldn't hide his heart. He would find justice for his brother and undoubtedly his plans for the throne would include them. 

"I'm in the mood for some cake," Arthur announced. 

The butler bowed and departed. Frederick detested sweets, meaning that the butler would not return anytime soon.

Free from spying eyes, Arthur inspected the desk and the mess of papers lying over it. Careful to not disturb the arrangement, he leaned in closer to see what his friend was up to. What he was hiding.

Most were business reports. Arthur's brows furrowed as he recognized some of the names. Liberal business which Frederick publicly opposed. Corporate espionage? That would be in character.

Arthur straightened. Of course Frederick wouldn't leave around incriminating papers. 

Disappointed, he turned away. His eyes focused on the packed calendar, devoid of names and filled with addresses or code words. His eyes stopped on the current date. A history museum?

Snapping a photo with his phone, Arthur returned to his seat before the butler could return and discover his snooping. Perhaps the rest of his schedule would reveal more relevant clues as to his friend’s schemes.

"I have a slice of pound, chiffon, and sponge cake," the butler interrupted his thoughts. "Which would be to your liking, my lord?"

"Sponge cake, please," he said absently. “Say, is that vase there an antique? I have not seen one quite like it before.”

The butler stood. “I do not believe so, my lord.”

“Does Frederick have an interest in antiques? I am considering acquiring some myself.”

“Only books, my lord,” the butler answered.

“A shame. Tell Frederick the tea was excellent as always.” If his friend didn’t have a sudden interest in antiquities, then why was he visiting a museum? He paused, hat in hand. “Books? I’m rather light on reading material, do you think he would mind me borrowing one?”

“Of course not, my lord,” the butler said and returned with a stack of books. Some were new, but the battered ones caught his eye.

Wondering what had caught his friend’s attention, Arthur flipped through them. Fairy tales?

* * *

**Zeroth Division Base, Area Six**

Roy lay down the pen and massaged his wrist, cursing Lelouch for leaving him in charge. The infernal clock ticking in the corner reminded him that his brief respite couldn't last. There was work to be done, increasing by the second. 

How did Lelouch do it?

Roy drained the last drop of coffee and mournfully put the cup down. His friend was a demon. A paperwork demon. There was no way anyone sane could conquer this paperwork without supernatural interference. 

Or Lelouch didn't sleep.

"You alright, Roy?" Alex asked as he hesitated in the doorway, before firmly shutting the door. "You look like shit."

"Thank you, Alex. That's just what I want to hear." Roy grabbed his mug and stood. If he was going to be interrupted, then he could at least be awake. "Please tell me Lelouch is returning and saving me from his personal hell."

Alex snorted. "No, but you do have a meeting."

"That's not on the schedule." Roy blinked. "It's Thursday, right?"

"Yes. It's because... Well, Lelouch apparently doesn't know when he'll be back, so there's some stuff that can't wait." Alex rubbed the back of his head and threw his most innocent smile, betraying his nervousness. 

Roy narrowed his eyes and huffed. "Alex, if this a prank of yours, I'm going to murder you."

"No. It's important."

"Surely Communications could've waited a day? I do have a briefing to lead in a few hours. And then I need to help Pablo expedite Gino's repair parts. Or else the operation on Tuesday falls apart."

"It's not—" Alex groaned. "Don't worry too much about the knightmare parts. Bradley's team always brings plenty of spares."

Roy froze. "The Vampire? That's not reassuring! I'm not Lelouch. I don't have the balls to yell at a Knight of the Round for completely disregarding the plan." Slouching, he shook his head. "Damn idiot is going to get himself killed."

Worry gnawed at his stomach as he considered what sort of trouble Lelouch would inevitably stumble into without his men to protect him. And Lelouch would get into trouble. He was the one who walked into a grocery store and accidentally stumbled into a drug ring. It defied the odds and Roy's family was going to be pissed when he returned home with early greying hair.

Dealing with Bradley and his unique brand of bloodlust... 

"I'm not cut out for this," Roy whispered. "I'm not Lelouch and I've no idea how he does it. I've barely slept and Lelouch finds time to cook."

"You could ask him for help?" Alex suggested. 

Roy winced. "General advice from Lelouch tends to be philosophy."

"You mean to tell me that a rich, spoilt brat like yourself doesn't like intellectual exercise?" Alex teased.

Shooting him a dirty look. Roy said, "No. Philosophy is fine. But when Lelouch does it, he's either quoting foreigners or being borderline treasonous. I'm not having him put it into writing."

"I never noticed," Alex said although Roy could've sworn he saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Was Alex truly oblivious to Lelouch's faults? Roy knew that Frederick never blinked twice at his statements, but Roy had been trained how to read between the lines. Not to take a noble's word at face-value. Some nobles were better at it than others and Roy remembered at a young age when his parents would have him listen to various speeches to understand what had not been said.

Lelouch relished the freedom of his tongue to the point Roy forgot that his friend had to have been raised as a noble and should know better. Were his family to meet him, they would see him as a liability and demand Roy cut him loose to shield them against the inevitable fallout. Not that Roy would ever consider it.

Because of Lelouch's blatant honesty, people accepted his statements at face-value. When he did lie, it was painfully obvious. Nobody suspected a terrible liar of weaving a deception.

Roy though knew his friend was brimming with secrets, so when he offhandedly rejected the idea of staying away from the battlefield,—"If the king doesn't lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?"—Roy picked apart the words. A commander would've made more sense, yet Lelouch had chosen a king. Or rather, refrained from stating the Emperor.

Alex stopped, bit his lip, and looked around nervously before opening the door. Inside, to Roy's displeasure, Art sat at the table, smiling as if he wasn't supposed to be suffering for what he did to Lelouch. Across from him, Sergeant Malfoire set down a stack of papers. His posture felt distinctly wrong compared to their previous interactions, but Roy couldn't put his finger on the cause.

"Good, you're here," Sergeant Malfoire said and gestured to the seat. 

Roy stood, eyes narrowed. "Why is the Crow here?"

Art sighed, but remained quiet, choosing to instead lean back and smirk.

"As Lelouch is on vacation indefinitely, it's necessary to fill you in," Sergeant Malfoire began. "Art is the head of intelligence."

Why would Lelouch put his kidnapper into a position of power?

"What's Communication's interest?" Roy asked, afraid of the answer.

Sergeant Malfoire chuckled. "We're the OSI, boy. Well, not Art. Lelouch refused to surrender him to our custody. Perhaps you'll have better luck rectifying the situation when he returns. I'm actually Warrant Officer York."

Glancing at Alex, Roy silently begged him to refute the story. Instead, he shrunk into his chair, avoiding his gaze. Alex was part of the OSI. When the hell had that happened? The OSI was the monster under the bed. A tool of fear. Not Alex's endless pranks. 

Roy slowly sank into his chair, still not understanding. "How? You were an instructor? And Alex?"

Ser—No. York. He was a liar and Roy had never suspected anything amiss. York had always been a steady presence in their tumultuous enlistment. Willing to help. Reliable. A liar. How had he not noticed? 

York grinned and there was nothing pleasant or comforting to it anymore. "I was doing recruiting and when the Count's debut ended your training, I followed. The OSI was thrilled that someone volunteered for the 712th."

"You were giving Alex private lessons," Roy realized. His heart sank. "And Lelouch."

Art leaned forward.

"No need to be so dour." York smirked. "Or do you feel betrayed? That two of your friends kept such a  _ massive _ secret from you. Or maybe jealous that the Fadiman heir didn't receive special treatment. You love—"

"—Enough," Alex cut in. "Lelouch isn't an agent. Can we please get to business?"

Composing himself, Roy nodded and York shifted into a more professional persona, the strange predatory monster vanishing beneath kind smiles. The meeting continued easily enough as Roy listened to the intelligence while wondering at the three liars in the rooms. 

Alex had been a street rat, a pickpocket, a con artist. Of course the shift to OSI agent would've been easy to hide. 

It did nothing to assuage the feeling of betrayal lodged in his throat.

Alex laughed freely and was infamous for his mischief. The image of a ruthless OSI didn't mesh. There was no way... And then Alex casually suggested assassinating the drug lord's niece and pinning it on a rival cartel.

"That's repugnant," Roy protested and turned to his friend, trying to understand. "She has nothing to do with it."

Alex looked unconcerned. "I could kidnap her. Would be more difficult, but she's easy to access. We need a diversion after last night's mudslide. If we attack from the north, as planned, the enemy will see us coming. And Gino is concerned that the soil is too unstable for a knightmare."

"She's innocent," Roy hissed. "What would Lelouch say to this?"

“Her family is made of criminals. I’d hardly call that innocent.” York glared at him. "Lelouch would make the necessary decision as he always does. A distraction to reduce the risk to the division and it only costs one girl's life."

Roy didn't know Lelouch at all. He had always trusted the plan. Left someone else to make the decision who would die and live. Now, Lelouch expected him to fill the void in his absence and make impossible decisions.

"You need backup for a kidnapping," Art said. "I have a contact in the city—"

"—No," Roy barked. Lelouch had been kidnapped by this very man and now he had some contacts who could help arrange another. He would never let Art have such an opportunity again. What had Lelouch been thinking? Had he been blackmailed?

"An assassination is safer," York said. "No need for the Crow's little flock to do any dirty work."

"Alex would be watching me the entire time," Art said. "You know he'd just love to slip a knife between my ribs."

"But how can we trust you?" York asked. "Lelouch is your keeper and this would be the perfect time to fly the coop."

Roy glared at the Crow. Even the OSI agent didn't trust him. "If we must do this, it will be an assassination."

"Excellent. It's decided," York said and continued to less grisly matters as they discussed the enemy's rumored knightmare and the specs gleaned from their whisper network.

At the end of the meeting, Roy fled the room and stood outside, gulping for air. His hands trembled and he stuffed them into his pockets. Lelouch was younger than him, yet he did this all the time. One meeting and Roy was a nervous wreck wondering why Lelouch would entrust the division to him. He couldn't make those calls and the faceless girl would haunt him in his sleep. 

The price for victory.

"Roy," Alex said and he flinched at his sudden, way too silent, arrival. "A word, please?"

"Yes?" he asked coldly. 

Rubbing his head, Alex said, "I'm sorry for keeping this from you. Nobody is supposed to know and the only reason you're being brought in is..."

"Lelouch is gone," Roy said, exhausted, but appreciating the apology. Alex had been the youngest, of course the OSI would prey on his earnestness. The hurt and anger faded, replaced by pity. Roy should’ve done better. Seen more. Noticed his two friends had been ensnared.

In hindsight, he should have confronted Lelouch. The little flinches when York passed by no longer seemed so innocuous. He hadn’t been afraid of a teacher or a superior, but a killer in sheep’s skin. 

He had always been willfully blind, hadn’t he? Clung to the rules his parents had taught him. Always obeyed a superior. Held his tongue. Never investigated. 

Slouching, Roy whispered, "I'm not cut out for this, Alex. Hell, I don't know how Lelouch does this. It's been two weeks, and I feel like I'm drowning."

"It's not easy for him either, Roy. Lelouch was beyond pissed when he discovered that York sent me on an assassination mission for the OSI. But he has to win, so I'll do whatever is necessary to help him."

"Has to win?" Roy asked. He couldn’t afford ignorance any longer.

Alex grimaced. "Zero belongs to the Emperor and has permission to do what he wishes,  _ as long as  _ he brings results. That's what Lelouch said at least, and there was a ridiculous amount of security in the hospital." He shrugged. "I have no proof, but Lelouch is absolutely terrified of failing. The pieces fit."

They did, yet the rest of the picture was still missing. "Lelouch has only ever been gone for a week. And that's for his sister's birthday. Do you... Do you think he's alright? He would say if it was a funeral or something, right?"

"Why would that keep him away?" Alex asked, baffled.

"He's related to nobility and that usual means lots of land holdings and business investments. If my father were to die, I would be spending weeks trying to get everything together. I imagine it would be similar for him... Does he have any half-siblings? Or would he be the heir?"

"Don't know. It's not like Lelouch talks much about his family except for his sister." Alex fell silent. "Lelouch did receive an official letter a few days before. He completely panicked and then burned it."

"Well if he's officially a noble when he comes back, then maybe my family won't kill me at my wedding." Roy chuckled and a fond smile graced his lips.

"When did you propose to Selena?" 

"We've been discussing it. When I finally get a month off, I'll be proposing properly. She's already started planning the color schemes and everything. We don't want to wait too long. Not with our families..."

"They're upset with ya being in a Number division," Alex guessed.

"I'm supposed to bring honor and prestige, but it's not like I can explain what I'm actually doing. They've been insufferable recently and keep trying to force me to transfer elsewhere. Not that Lelouch would sign any such papers.” He groaned. “They're incessant and I don't have any younger siblings who can take up the mantle."

"I think Frederick is the only person with what I imagined a family to be," Alex said. "Still, I don't care 'bout your family. Invite me to your wedding or I'll—"

"—kill me?" Roy teased.

Alex rolled his eyes. "No. I was going to say replace your shampoo with your jalapeno monstrosity. It'll be your wedding present."

"Will you ever let that go?" Roy pleaded as he buried his face in his hands. "I still can't believe I said that to Empress Marianne."

Snickering, Alex said, "A great way to embarrass yourself in front of your idol and it'll forever be memorialized. Maybe I can get a plaque?"

"You're an utter asshole," Roy hissed. "For that, you're not going to be my best man."

"Like you weren't planning on asking Lelouch. I almost pity your family."

"He knows how to be polite," Roy said, ignoring the fact that polite Lelouch was a deadly force. Should his parents protest his marriage to Selena, he had no qualms letting Lelouch tear them to pieces. And considering Lelouch's own tenuous relationship with his family, he would be happy to assist.

* * *

**Unknown Location, Pendragon**

Marianne closed her host's journal with a smile. Katherine Beatrice had immediately noticed the discrepancies in her memories from Marianne's little escapades. But instead of seeing a doctor, she had begun to journal, detailing her life in painful detail and leaving Marianne a roadmap to navigate her host's life. 

Fortune had finally smiled on her.

Her Geass was incredibly useful for espionage, but not without drawbacks. Without meeting her hosts in person, she could not infect their minds and become a backseat driver who would take control when the need arose. 

Discovering the existence of this lab had been hard enough. Rumors were all she had to go on. V.V. jealously guarded all his personnel and they rarely left the lab.

Last year, she had finally managed to sneak within the compound, buried in the mind of a janitor. He was one of the few people who readily travelled between the lab and his home. But with his freedom in the outside world, he was restricted inside the lab and sheltered from any hint of Geass. Marianne had despaired, thinking this would be as far as she could go.

But then he had asked Katherine on a date, unknowingly sending her to the lion's den where Marianne waited. And she finally had access to a body with security clearance. The only downside: Marianne was not a biochemist.

The alarm on the counter rang and she withdrew her presence from the young woman's mind, leaving just enough awareness that she would notice something interesting happening. 

Katherine swore softly as she heard the alarm and hurriedly silenced it, before grabbing her bag and rushing out of the door. Back in the palace, Marianne opened her eyes as medical equipment beeped around her.

Charles, working at his desk in the corner of the room, glanced at her. "Normally, you're out longer."

Groaning, she pulled herself into a seated position. "Katherine has a presentation on hormone fluctuation based on Geass usage... and I'm not particularly interested in seeing the pictures."

"It's a necessary evil," Charles dismissed.

"And since you told me that V.V. wanted to kidnap Nunnally... I keep having nightmares of her lying on those operating tables." Wincing, she freed herself from the wires and pulled on a sweater. "Please tell me you have something interesting for me to do because staring at that woman's test tubes makes me want to cry."

He frowned as he scanned a letter with interest. "Lelouch is  _ begging _ me to not send Bradley to assist while he's gone. Was there an issue last time?"

"Lelouch likes his plans followed to a tee. Bradley likes running off and killing." Marianne shifted to the edge of the bed and pushed herself into the wheelchair. "He is a loose cannon and without Lelouch there, no one has the ability to reign him in."

"You could reign him in," Charles suggested.

"Two Knights of the Round? For what was it? A drug bust?” Marianne scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Let them handle it without help. They'll be fine."

"I would... but said drug lord has taken to archeology and collecting things considered metaphysical. Lelouch's plan is to capture the warehouse, not blow it up."

"Then send someone else. You have twelve of us."

"Ten. Riddlesston retired and Luten had to be taken care of. They will have questions if I ask them to blow up the warehouse... Bradley never questions destruction."

Marianne crossed her arms. "There are countless solutions, so what's the real reason you want Bradley?"

"He's my third best pilot and won't shut up about Lelouch's knightmare pilot. Testing him against you or Bismarck... That wouldn't give me an accurate assessment of his skills. Besides, I'm curious to see how the division will run without Lelouch there to babysit."

She had thought the test was sending him to negotiate with the E.U. "A test within a test, really?"

"You asked me to be more involved," he said, defensively.

"Don't be obtuse, dear. You know what I meant."

He sighed. "I think he'd pass out from shock if I just were to talk to him, Marianne. But admit it, you're curious to see how they'll do." He held out a paper for her. "A few days away from the life of Katherine inside your knightmare. There's even a potential ace to test..."

"Fine," Marianne snapped and grudgingly admitted she was curious. "I'm visiting Lelouch and Nunnally afterwards. It's always fun to see an old enemy and Reuben is being unusually cagey about his rumored ace."

"Please don't start a war," Charles begged.

"No promises," she chirped as she rolled out of the room. Elsewhere, Katherine examined her newest subject, and Marianne bit back a shudder. She could do with a distraction, before she worked to advance Katherine's career and get one step closer to V.V.

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

Deep in thought, Leila returned to the embassy from their little excursion. At Jeanne's pleading, they had sneaked out to enjoy the sights. Britannia wouldn't dare to attack them in Australia and risk upsetting their neutrality. After having to deal with the scowling Brits stonewalling any possible compromise, she had desperately needed to escape and stretch her legs.

What Leila hadn't expected was to see the new prince, Lelouch vi Britannia, dressed in casual clothes and seemingly at home within the smoggy confines of a casino. The royal family barely deigned to step out on the streets and mix with the riff-raff, lest they soil their hands. While it defied all logic, Leila was sure it was him. 

Why the hell was a prince gambling? 

"Boredom?" Jeanne, her childhood friend and maid, suggested from beside her. "Didn't you say he looked annoyed at being in the negotiation room?"

"That still doesn't make sense," Leila growled. "If a prince wanted to go gambling, there's the fancy gentleman’s club with its own security. He was completely unprotected out on the open floor... Maybe there was something in the smoke."

Jeanne shook her head as they stepped inside. "Well, I haven't met him, so I couldn't say if they just had an eerie resemblance. He did have two guards with him. Maybe even more hidden in the crowd."

Before she could reply, General Smila’s booming voice brought them to a halt. “Where have you been! It's not safe for you to traipse around the city."

She flinched at his glower and hung her head. "I have no excuse. My apologies, General Smilas for betraying your trust. I will strive to do better."

"Oh, please," a cultured voice interrupted in English and she looked up in shock to see Prince Schneizel exiting the office. "There is no need to be so harsh. A little youthful exploration is to be expected. It is her first time in another country after all."

Leila bowed hesitantly as she tried to understand his presence and his sudden politeness. 

"Shall we finish our discussion?" Prince Schneizel asked. "My time is too limited to watch you discipline the errant youth."

"Leila, come here," General Smilas ordered and Leila cast a desperate look at Jeanne before rushing up the stairs to her mentor. He led them inside the office where another young Brittannian stood. 

"Is this wise?" Prince Schneizel asked, lowering himself into a cushioned armchair. 

"She is my protegee as I said. I trust her implicitly," General Smilas said and a rush of warmth rose in her chest. "If you wished to not involve her, then you could have waited here."

Prince Schneizel's lips thinned, before an amused smile graced his lips. "Well played. To business then. I have thirty-four Margraves who pledged to aid our agreement. As for the representatives?"

"Twenty-eight. Enough to push a majority vote through on the resolution. I would prefer to establish a super-majority before continuing. Additionally, the president is interested in the proposition, although he has a few additional stipulations. With his support, the resolution won't die in committee or be delayed endlessly."

Prince Schneizel sniffed. "How your government accomplishes anything remains a mystery to me. You do have an election in the coming month. Perhaps we should wait to tackle his stipulations until he has been reconfirmed."

"Remind me how many of your citizens died as your lords feuded over water rights on the Mississippi?" General Smilas picked up a folder and passed it over. "Waiting is pointless. Polls suggest he will achieve a landslide victory."

"A dangerous assumption when a misstep will bring our proposal to a premature end. Patience is a virtue."

General Smilas narrowed his eyes. "Is that a warning?"

"No. Father finds him a useful fool. We have no need to meddle especially with the rather excessive anti-Britannian sentiment of his opponent."

"Then there is no need to wait," General Smilas countered. "Patience may be a virtue, but the longer we draw this out, the more likely it is for the Emperor to discover your plotting. And he is suspicious. Or he wouldn't send his favored son to babysit you."

Prince Schneizel silently accepted the folder, but if he was concerned, he didn't show it. "Marianne may be his favored wife, but that sentiment does not seem to extend to her son. He only involves himself to force Lelouch’s attendance at social obligations. I imagine it is at Marianne’s insistence. Likely, Guinevere is right and his presence here is a publicity stunt."

Leila took an involuntary step closer.

"What of his character?" General Smilas asked. "Rumors suggest he is incredibly spoiled, but his behavior suggests otherwise."

"You're fishing," Prince Schniezel observed. "You may relax. He is not Marianne's second coming judging from her incessant griping. I admit that I do not know my younger siblings well. We used to play chess and he was moderately talented, but he hasn't improved since. A lack of ambition has stymied his potential. A shame really. If his sister was fully abled, she would be the one to keep an eye on. Alas, an unfortunate childhood accident has left her a weakling."

"Thank you for indulging my curiosity." General Smilas rose and walked to the door. "I trust you will have no trouble returning undetected."

Prince Schniezel shook his head. "Guinevere is sufficiently distracted with her date. Thank you for that. And my brother has moved into the library so there will be no trouble on that end. A pleasure, as always, doing business with you."

General Smilas watched the Britannians retreat. He gestured for Jeanne to enter, quietly shut the door, and collapsed in his chair, cradling his head. "Speak nothing of this."

"Of course," Leila assured, wondering how he had managed to turn the prince into an asset. What she had viewed as showboating in the negotiation room with disgust was turning into something more elaborate. A game of shadows and dagger. "Can we trust him?"

"Of course not," General Smilas said. "He thinks he can control me so he is willing to indulge my requests. For now, our goals align closely enough to make the alliance worthwhile. Jeanne? Not a word. If the Emperor catches wind of this, then everything will be for naught."

Leila frowned. "I don't understand. Why would he turn against the Emperor?"

"Because he has designs for the throne. What else?" General Smilas snorted. "I know our sham in the negotiating room is aggravating, but it is necessary. When we began negotiations, they were productive although perhaps not civil. Both of us wanted to return home quickly so we reached an agreeable compromise. The Emperor rejected it."

"Why?"

General Smilas shook his head. "Because outside of the publicity, the Emperor does not care. He knows that we won't capitulate on certain conditions and has made them non-negotiable, effectively forcing Schneizel to fight a losing battle and chaining him to a post outside of the country. We're  _ his _ glorified babysitters. Unfortunately, I fear the Emperor has caught onto our little game."

"Because of Prince Lelouch?" Leila asked, trying to understand how he fit into the puzzle.

"An unknown in our plans. The E.U. has been trying to keep track of Marianne's spawns for years; they're like ghosts. The biggest news story on Prince Lelouch was that he  _ didn't _ have a public birthday party. While strange, it tells us nothing about him. I shudder to think what will happen if he's a knightmare ace on par with his mother. The best strategy for dealing with her remains to not engage her. Thank God that her daughter is blind, and we don't have to worry about her."

"Prince Schneizel doesn't view him as a threat," Leila pointed out. He really couldn't be that dangerous. He had brought cookies to the last meeting and then sulked when everyone refused to eat them out of fear of being poisoned. 

"And they're siblings. He could be lying. Or he could have a blind spot for the little kid he's watched grow up. Maybe it's just a publicity stunt, or maybe his parents have spent years grooming Prince Lelouch to be their perfect weapon and this is a test run." General Smilas straightened. "I know he's your age and you find him amusing—"

"—I do not," Leila hissed.

"Then this should be easy. Stay away from him," General Smilas ordered.

"Um," Jeanne said hesitantly, half raising her hand. "We saw him on our outing, gambling in the casino."

General Smilas slowly turned, focusing on her. "Are you sure?"

"Leila thought she recognized him, but it's his guard..." Jeanne strode to his desk and pushed a photo forward. "I wasn't sure, so during the meeting, I dug through the letters Mom sent me."

Leila leaned over General Smilas's shoulder as he lifted the picture of the youth standing proudly in a Britannian uniform. He looked so young and Leila was reminded that Britannians enlisted children. Her own position was more of an internship and she was strictly forbidden from being near any possible combat. The Britannians obviously had no such qualms.

"Who is he?" General Smilas said, setting the picture down.

"Mom kept in contact with the Britannian side of our family. That's Auntie's son, Frederick... He enlisted when he was fifteen and last we heard, was still in the army."

"An accidental meeting, perhaps?" 

Jeanne winced. "They can't get travel visas because Mom defected."

General Smilas tapped his finger on the picture, frowning. "Befriend him. He's our best lead to understand the prince's purpose here and the thrill of meeting lost family will strain his loyalty."

"My family—" Jeanne protested.

"Should he turn, we will do our best to safely extract them."

The promise of family would be too great to resist for her childhood friend. They may have been close as sisters, but Leila knew that she couldn't soothe the longing in her heart. Unlike her, Jeanne didn't have the protection of an adoptive family to shield her from the scorn of her fellow countrymen. She only had her mother, a simple maid.

As they exited the office, Leila caught her friend's hand. "Promise me you won't leave me."

"Of course not." Jeanne pulled her into a hug. "I'm proud to be French, but if I can help my Britannian relatives see the monster they serve, then it is my duty to do so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- How governing works in CG isn’t really explained in-depth outside of Empire bad. The most we see is with the UFN but even then, the details are minimal and their role to me felt like the E.U. (real world) or the United Nation. The lore is also really unclear about how the entire Napoleon situation went down. Supposedly, he was executed by the guillotine before forming the Empire, but the dates don’t align for that to make sense. The point of my rambling is that I’m not entirely sure how the E.U. government should work outside of being representative. I’m not sure whether I should use, the French Consulate, the current French system, the U.S. system, a version of our E.U. with more centralized power, or something else.
> 
> \- As I said last chapter, Akito’s worldbuilding is awful. Supposedly, there are E.U. aristocrats which is most definitely not going to be the case here. Old families with a lot of money and always seem to have a kid in the government, sure. But actual aristocrats when the Geass lore has Napoleon supposedly executed for trying to return to a monarchy? Absolutely not.
> 
> \- How Geass works is incredibly funky. When thinking about Marianne in the anime, I assume she didn’t want to stay in Anya’s body. So therefore to forge a connection she has to use her living body. Akito side note: Leila’s Geass and how she conveniently received it from C.C. confuses me. Unless people have strong objections, she’s not going to have a Geass.
> 
> Author’s Note
> 
> Lelouch: returns  
> Someone: “I heard your father died.”  
> Lelouch: *panics*
> 
> More seriously, I hope the chapter was engaging despite it being more scheming than anything else concrete. :)
> 
> The next chapter will be on Nov 20th instead of the 13th. You can thank my midterms and health for the delay. I will be posting the week directly afterwards though to make up for the delay. 
> 
> As to my American audience, please remember to vote by Nov. 3. 
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and on FFN for your help with betaing


	3. Ides of March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
> 
> Recap:  
> Lelouch has been ordered to negotiate with the E.U., removing him from the Zeroth Division and inviting scrutiny. To return, he must find a way to bring the negotiations to an end. Kallen, a spy for the JLF, has been revealed as an ace, forcing her to become a test pilot. Her brother, Naoto/Nathan joins Ohgi in investigating something suspicious.

_The most powerful tool in every government’s arsenal is fear. History is soaked in blood as men banded together to form great cities, only to tear them down again due to some primal fear. Now, we call ourselves civilized beings, but that same fear nips at our heels as we bow our head to authority. Fear though is exhausting, so we hide it under the guise of love for family, God, and country._

_Britannia and the E.U., despite appearing diametrically opposed, both point to each other and stress the looming war on the horizon. The fear of invasion turns into love for their country because their glorious nation is a heroic, perhaps even divine, guardian. Under Britannia, the citizens love their Emperor because without one, war tears through their countryside. While Emperor Charles zi Britannia may have cast aside Britannia’s fickle religious roots, he plays the role of God: infallible, omniscient, and omnipotent. Only family and friendship stand independent from the rigid authority of the Emperor, and it is here where Britannia is weak._

_\--Fear: The Double Edged Sword in Governing_

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Area Eleven**

Naoto nodded at the receptionist as he passed through security and into the vast maze that the labs had grown into. He took a right to the elevator and entered the day's passcode. While he was now officially employed at the hospital, Lord Ashford often requested his presence. As keeping the lord happy was in his best interests, he didn't dare to complain. Privately, Naoto thought it was because the old man hated working with new people.

The elevator stopped, and Naoto waited patiently instead of exiting into the storage area as the silent security scan commenced. The door closed, and he turned around to exit through the now open secret backdoor. It felt strange walking into the private sanctuary knowing he was betraying the man who had sheltered his family.

"Nathan, you're here," Lord Ashford announced cheerfully. "I hope everything is going well at the hospital?"

"Of course," Naoto said, noting the lack of personnel on the floor and Lord Ashford's constant shadow, Thomas. "What did you need me for?"

He sighed and waved him along, leading him to a small observation deck looking out at a large cavern and a strange knightmare awkwardly moving about. "I heard some students of mine made a surprise visit at the hospital."

The heavy weight of surveillance settled on his shoulder, reminding Naoto what would happen if he wasn't careful.

"You mean Lelouch's sister? I'm sorry, Lord Ashford. I tried to refuse, but she was quite insistent, and I feared she would endanger herself without me there."

Ashford massaged his nose. "She takes after her brother in all the wrong ways."

Naoto shifted awkwardly. "Should I've done something else?"

"No." He sighed. "At least you have a chance of her listening to you. Make sure she and Euphie do not get into trouble. The consequences... would be dire."

"May I ask why?"

Lord Ashford turned to observe the knightmare. It wobbled precariously before the parts shifted into something looking more like a fantastical beast than an armored giant.

"You probably think it's some old man's idiosyncrasy, don't you? It would be a lie to say it's because they're dear friends of my granddaughter, and she would be devastated if something were to happen to them... Euphie's older sister has great influence in the army and is quite protective of her."

"And Lelouch?" Naoto dared to ask, because it wasn't Euphie he was concerned about. 

Lord Ashford hesitated. "I'd hate to lose my best accountant permanently. He didn't tell you? Before he joined the military, he spent almost a year balancing my books as I tried to set up a school here and adjust to the new responsibilities of being a Margrave."

"How does a thirteen year old get employed?"

"With stellar recommendations from his mother," Lord Ashford joked weakly. "You have a life ahead of you, Nathan. Don't dig too deeply into things you don't understand."

Instead of an answer, Naoto was left with a warning. "Of course, my lord."

"Very well," Lord Ashford continued, "as to the second matter I brought you here for, Kallen visited you as well."

Naoto didn't say anything, knowing that they had risked everything. For their safety, they had to remain distant. 

"She was understandably distraught, so I'll let it slide this time. I should have checked which simulation the Purists were running." Lord Ashford nodded at the knightmare. "With your father away on a business trip, I'm seeking your opinion on the matter. Kallen's status as an ace makes her situation difficult. For now, I can protect her by claiming her as my test pilot, but it's only a temporary measure."

"You're a Margrave. Nobody would be able to push her with your backing," Naoto said as his eyes widened, realizing who was in the knightmare.

"Marianne is very nosy," Lord Ashford grumbled.

"Empress Marianne?" Naoto clarified and shivered as he remembered her brutal executions during Tokyo's initial occupation. Having that woman around his little sister filled him with dread. "Why would she care about Kallen?"

"As my former test pilot, she has an incessant need to pester me about every successor of hers and test their worth. Too many resign afterwards, rightfully terrified out of their mind. It's incredibly frustrating." Lord Ashford shook his head. "I'm not sure how to broach the subject with Kallen or even if I should."

"Empress Marianne hates Numbers," Naoto said slowly. His stomach churned. If she discovered Kallen’s heritage...

"Fortunately, your sister has a stellar record and Marianne has mellowed a little. Or at least adopted a broader world view."

Disturbed at the parental tone of pride in his voice, Naoto scowled. "Then she will come, have her fun, and leave us alone?"

Frowning, Lord Ashford leaned over the bar as the knightmare performed a sloppy maneuver. "Your sister has the good sense to try and pretend her simulator scores were a fluke. She thinks she's fooling me as well, constantly crashing into things or starting turns too late. An ace might have just a good sync-rate, but not the aptitude. Against a regular ace, Kallen's sabotage would make her appear unskilled and only a viable asset with much training."

Naoto's heart soared. There was a way for Kallen to return to a normal life and not be condemned to military training. At worst, she would spend the rest of her life test piloting for Lord Ashford until Japan was liberated.

"Marianne wouldn't be fooled," Lord Ashford finished with a pitying look. 

"But then Kallen could still work here," Naoto pleaded desperately.

He winced. "Even between aces, there's a wide range of skill. Sync-rate, natural aptitude, and experience all play a part. Teens usually get scored as ace potentials. Nunnally's friend, Allie, is one. Given enough practice, she might develop into an ace years down the line. Kallen is already one which is very rare for her age. With practice, she will quickly outpace the majority of aces."

"What are you implying?" Naoto asked, his eyes locked onto his sister's knightmare beneath them.

"If Marianne fights her," Lord Ashford said sadly, "she will be groomed as a potential Knight of the Round."

Kallen, a Knight of the Round? It was ridiculous. She was half-Japanese. The Emperor would never allow someone like her to join. But Lord Ashford didn't crack a smile, his gaze solemn. He was serious and Naoto wanted to scream. 

He was her brother. He was supposed to protect her, yet she kept moving further out of reach.

Knight of the Round. 

Everyone heard the stories right next to the whispers of the OSI. Respected they may be, but they were completely loyal to the Emperor in a way Kallen could never be. She wasn't a murderer. Capable of the mass slaughters the Emperor ordered his personal troops to carry out. 

"Don't tell Kallen," Naoto begged. "She already has enough on her plate without worrying about this. Please, my lord." 

"I don't want to put that pressure on a child," Lord Ashford agreed. "I often wonder if I did Marianne a disservice. She would disagree naturally, but she used to be so warm and kind despite her hardships. When I introduced her to court, she had to change to survive. Catching Charles's attention... did not help."

It felt wrong hearing the Emperor's name spoken so casually. Almost humanizing because he hadn't always been the Emperor. Simply a prince leading an army to claim the crown. 

Naoto's heart twisted. Empress Marianne must've been around the same age as Kallen was now. Imagining Kallen being pursued by the Emperor…

Bile rose, burning his throat. 

He could kidnap her and hide her in the ghettos. She was his sister, and he wouldn't let the vile man corrupt her. Japan had to be freed for Kallen's sake.

"This plan was supposed to keep her safe," Naoto said.

Lord Ashford was silent as the knightmare stopped and Kallen disembarked, unaware of the possible fate hanging over her head. Naoto expected someone to run up and greet her, instead she collapsed into a chair. Cautiously, he stepped backwards so she would not see him.

"There's no one here. You're keeping her a secret," Naoto said and his eyes widened. "You don't want the Emperor to know."

"I can refuse Marianne for a while," he said tiredly. "She trusts me unlike the Emperor. If he orders me, it'll be substantially harder to keep his attention away from Kallen."

"You'd be willing to lie?" To commit treason.

"I don't wish to repeat my mistakes," Lord Ashford said, neither confirming nor denying but leaving Naoto without a doubt that he would do everything in his power to protect her. 

It wouldn't be enough, yet the gesture warmed Naoto's heart, and he wished that there was another path to freedom. Betraying Lord Ashford hurt. 

"In the meanwhile, I'll see if I can find another solution or least ensure her some protection should the worst come to pass." Lord Ashford paused and faced Naoto, smiling kindly. "Go talk to her. She could use some comfort."

"She doesn't want to see me," he said.

"Trust me, she does," Lord Ashford refuted. "If you don't, you will regret it. I will leave you be." He walked past him and stopped at the stairs. "For your sister's safety, there's no security here. You'll be able to talk freely."

The desperate urge to confess bubbled inside him. He could tell Lord Ashford everything about the suspicious military activity Ohgi observed. The high grade medical equipment they discovered. He would take care of it. Nobody would have to die... 

A lie. Lord Ashford's genial demeanor hid his more ruthless side. He had, aftarall, let the Knight Police operate in Tokyo and continued to do so despite their persistent harassment of the hospital. 

Naoto descended the stairs silently and watched Kallen with a fond smile as she scribbled furiously on a paper.

"Lord Ashford," she said, spinning around and her mouth dropped open as she saw him. "Naoto?"

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for Lord Ashford to finish his tweaks," Kallen said and turned her back to him. "I don't need you."

He picked up the etiquette book beside her and raised an eyebrow at the sarcastic answers on the quiz. "You should take this more seriously, Kallen."

"Please, not you too." Kallen threw up her hands. "You're so amazing Kallen. So special. Make sure to work hard so you can slaughter everyone."

Unimpressed, he waited for her rant to finish. "Lord Ashford is only trying to help."

"I don't need his help!" She whirled around, poking him in the chest. "Can you be any more subservient? Lord Ashford this and that. It makes me sick. Have some pride, you damn coward."

"Kallen..." Unable to explain that he was fighting now, for her, he took the seat beside her. "You should take your work more seriously."

She snarled. "Don't. Just don't."

"This will help protect you," Naoto pleaded. He couldn't bear to tell her the truth, but she had to understand. "I'm not saying you have to follow the rules. Just understand them so you can protect yourself. Lord Ashford is giving you ammunition to defend yourself."

Something in his tone must have gotten through because Kallen's face relaxed and she turned to the book with renewed interest. They sat together in silence, only the sound of pages turning disturbing the peace.

* * *

**Zeroth Division Base, Area Six**

In hindsight, it had taken Roy embarrassingly long to realize he shouldn't emulate Lelouch's style of command. He couldn't remember two hundred people off the top of his head and bark orders while keeping plans requiring delicate timing in his head. The work Lelouch dealt with was astronomical and impossible to overcome for anyone but him.

Having come to this conclusion, Roy stopped asking himself what Lelouch would do and instead focused on what he needed to do: delegate.

Restructuring was a herculean effort. Lelouch's style of command was incredibly dependent on himself. While he trusted his men to be flexible if the need arose, he was always a radio call away to personally take charge. There were no fail safes, and Roy had slammed his head against his desk when he realized. 

If anything went wrong, Lelouch had designed a system where he would shoulder all the blame.

Typical, but unsustainable.

Roy shook his head and dispersed his more irritated thoughts as Sir Bradley's caravan arrived with the necessary personnel. He would need the patience of a saint to deal with the Knight of Ten and his insatiable bloodlust.

"This is going to be fun," Gino muttered as he stopped beside him and stood, for once, at a proper attention. "I swear I still have bruises from the last time he insisted on a spar."

"The other pilots are all out of sight?" Roy asked. 

"What pilots? The landscapers are on the opposite side of the camp with engineering," Gino said. 

They could only push officially Britannian policy so far. Having Numbers in command positions was already scandalous and even Lelouch didn't dare to officially have a Number pilot a knightmare. Instead, they had "landscapers" who were charged with digging trenches and building mounds... with knightmares. 

One day, the pilots would be allowed to fight officially instead of being called on as a last resort backup. But not today. Especially not with Bradley, and his renown distaste for Numbers, running around.

"Sir Bradley," Roy greeted with a crisp salute. His eyes widened as he spotted a shorter figure _rolling_ out of the car and dropped into a formal bow. Shit.

"Oh, right. The brat isn't here." Bradley leaned in, his minty breath assaulting Roy's nose as he stared into his eyes. "This place reeks. But I make you uneasy. Not that filth. I'll be watching you. Don't want any... misplaced sympathy."

Roy forced a smile. "A pleasure as always, Sir Bradley. The Emperor honors us with your presence." 

Bradley threw back his head and laughed. "I can't wait to wash my knightmare with blood. Perhaps a warm up? There are too many cockroaches running around. Not knowing their place."

"Lucy, be nice," Empress Marianne barked, saving Roy from having to answer the homicidal maniac. 

Bradley flinched and retreated behind her. "Yes, sir."

""Brigadier Fadiman" Empress Marianne greeted, her eyes scanning the assembled soldiers behind him. She grimaced, clearly finding them lacking.

Feeling a surge of pride, Roy straightened. He wasn’t just Lelouch’s second in this moment, but Zero’s as well. "Are you taking command, Your Majesty?" 

There was no discernable reason she would be here otherwise. Maybe he wasn’t trusted to lead the operation adequately. If she took charge, Lelouch would be pissed but he didn't have the authority to rebuff her. Roy though would be glad to shed some of the responsibility from his shoulders.

"No, I'm here in the official capacity as the Knight of Six. Shall we take this somewhere more private? Sir Weinberg, you're invited as well." 

It wasn't a suggestion. 

Roy bowed his head and led the way to his (Lelouch's) office, trying to understand what would necessitate two Knights of the Round’s presence. He resigned himself to the fact that their carefully laid plans were about to burst in flames. Bradley was a chaotic element although his presence wasn't too unexpected with Gino being their only official knightmare pilot. Empress Marianne though...

Something had caught the Emperor's eye.

Roy stood awkwardly in his office, wondering what the proper etiquette was. Officially, they were under his command. Practically, Empress Marianne could have him executed for the slightest insult, and he hadn't made the most favorable impression in Area Two.

"The Lefay is amazing. I didn't know a knightmare could move like that," Gino gushed as he closed the door, all sense of propriety forgotten. "Is it true that you always have a perfect synchronization rate? I heard that even now, no one else can pilot the Ganymede."

Gino... Roy tensed, ready to apologize for his enthusiasm.

Empress Marianne leaned back and laughed heartily. "Impress me and, after the mission, I may show you a trick or two."

Gino's eyes sparkled, and Roy hoped he had never looked like that. Yes, she was amazing, but manners. Admire from a distance.

Clearing his throat, Roy asked, "Should I be concerned that His Majesty sent two Knights of the Round? We are of course honored by your presence.” 

"I was bored." She shrugged. "What is the situation?"

An hour later, they left and Roy pulled out a handkerchief to dab the back of his neck. Briefing them had been surprisingly easy. Empress Marianne had made a few suggestions, but for the most part, seemed pleased with his work. And for once, Bradley hadn't argued against minimizing casualties, saying the weak deserved to die.

"Gino," Roy said as the knight moved to the door. "Please, remember your manners.”

"Oh..." Gino scratched the back of his head. "That was rude, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Roy held back a sigh. "Yes, it was. Not all of us have the... protection of a family name. It's best they remain in a good mood. Go entertain them."

"Yes, sir." Gino saluted then ruined it by walking into the door. 

Massaging his temples, Roy finally dared to sit down and searched the cabinet for his emergency stash of coffee. He needed his wits. Empress Marianne wouldn't come to their division out of boredom. Not with her distaste of Numbers. He needed to discover the real reason for the safety of the division.

"I expected more shouting," Alex said as he entered the office and raised an eyebrow at the papers he was frantically scanning. "Thought you'd be happier with your idol here. A chance to make a good impression this time."

Roy glared at his friend who raised his hands defensively. "If I knew _why_ two Knights of the Round were here, it'd be better."

"Empress Marianne never travels without another knight." Alex shrugged. "Maybe Bradley is here as her guard. I'd worry if it was the Knight of Three or so."

Shaking his head, Roy leaned back. "The only reason she doesn't have a higher rank is politics. She defeated Bismarck. For almost any operation, she is overkill. For ours... It's like using a flamethrower to exterminate a single spider."

The timing was strange. For three years, they only had to deal with Bradley dropping in to randomly assist on missions. While he definitely swung the odds into their favor, the consequences of his involvement were usually dire. A few months ago, he had disobeyed orders and massacred a village. 

His justification: He felt like it. 

Unlocking one of the file cabinets, he withdrew Lelouch's notes. His friend suspected that Bradley's flagrant disregard for orders was at the Emperor's behest. Roy wasn't sure which left the worst taste in his mouth. The Emperor willfully empowering a loose cannon like Bradley and seeing the collateral as the cost of doing business. Or him ordering massacres for reasons they couldn't comprehend.

Now, Lelouch took an extended vacation for the first time in three years and Empress Marianne arrived. It didn't feel like a coincidence.

Roy looked up at Alex who seemed too calm. "You know something."

"Just a guess." Alex didn't elaborate, but left with a knowing smile.

The day after, Roy watched the warehouse they intended to capture go up in flames. Predictably, Bradley was at fault and he could hear Empress Marianne reprimanding over the coms. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before asking for the casualty reports and buried his anger as Bradley mocked the men he had killed.

The soldiers his reckless actions had killed.

"Numbers scream the best. Always so proud in their silent defiance, but when the time comes, they blubber like newborn babes. How loudly do your Numbers scream?" Bradley asked him in the middle of camp, his eyes alight with wicked amusement. 

"What Numbers, Sir Bradley? I only see Honorary Britannians." Roy smiled politely as he imagined his fist breaking the man's nose. Making him bleed the same blood he so eagerly spilled. 

Why hadn't they left yet? The operation was over. Instead, they hung around. Bradley sowed dissension among the ranks as his cruel words belittled them while playing with his knife, a silent promise for when Roy turned his back. Empress Marianne never interfered on the Number's behalf, only when Bradley's ire turned on the few Britannians.

York was godsend as two days turned into three and then into a week. He was there whenever Roy turned, willing to help with whatever task and run interference with Bradley. The two of them didn't get along at all.

"We need to do something," Pablo said as they finished discussing logistics. "Everyone is one edge. I've broken up three separate brawls today."

"It's not like I can tell them to leave," Roy grumbled. "The Emperor will recall them soon enough."

The door opened and Gino, his hair in disarray and a blossoming welt on his cheek, snuck inside, collapsing in a chair. "Bradley won't give up. Keeps ordering me to fight."

"Tired of getting your ass handed to you?" Pablo snorted. "You have it easy. Leo is on bed rest for the next two week because of Bradley's little friendly spar."

Gino winces. "I'm sorry. I just wanted a few hours of peace and he goes and stabs Leo because I'm not there to entertain him."

"I'm open to suggestions," Roy offered as he signed off on an order form. "For both of them. Empress Marianne... She's always watching me. Keeps asking me to explain what I'm doing. A legal suggestion please."

Pablo coughs. "You may want to reassign Alex to the other side of the base. We wouldn't want Bradley's unfortunate affair with the bathroom to escalate."

Roy buried his head in his hands at the implications. Poisoning a Knight of the Rounds, even if it was just laxatives, was an executable offense. Pulling out a notepad, he made a note to reassign Alex. 

There had to be something that would force them to leave.

"Gino," Roy said suddenly, the boy jerking awake. "Is there any knightmare part Bradley can't easily replace?"

"Oh, force him to return to Pendragon for repairs,” Gino said. "It's a custom frame. He's only got standard parts for repairs. So, the drill, I guess."

"Sabotage is risky," Pablo cautioned. "We'll be the first ones he suspects."

No. They couldn't sabotage the drill. Not without risking getting caught.

Roy drummed his finger along the table. If only they knew more about the custom frame... 

The drill had to be heavy. Bradley never used it in the friendly knightmare spars he insisted on dragging Gino into, instead using a modified spear. But only with his right arm.

Roy smiled. "The right arm must be reinforced to accommodate the weight of the drill. How hard do you think it would be to repair, Gino?"

"It's not much bigger, but you're right. The drill is heavy. More expensive materials maybe. The Ganymede..." Gino mumbled to himself as he pondered the trouble. For all his social obliviousness, he loved knightmares and knew them inside and out. "I've been able to dodge his attacks because the right elbow joint has a limited degree of motion compared to the normal Sutherland. If the arm is heavier, then the joint has to be reinforced..."

"Would they return to Pendragon to fix it?" Roy asked and at his nod, bared his teeth. "Next time he invites you to a knightmare spar, focus your attacks on the joint. I don't care how damaged your knightmare gets. Fixing it is less expensive than dealing with the fallout because someone decides to try and kill the bastard."

"Understood, sir," Gino said eagerly.

The next morning, Roy listened to the glorious incoherent screams as Bradley realized his arm was functionally useless. A small smile tugged on the edge of his lips, muted by professionalism. The soldiers near him didn't have the same restraints, basking in the anguish of their tormentor.

"We'll be leaving in a few hours," Empress Marianne said, rolling up beside him. "I would say Bradley has learned a lesson in restraint, but that would be too optimistic of me."

"Your Majesty," Roy greeted, watching her warily. Did she suspect them of engineering the sparring accident? Would she punish them?

Ahead of them, a soldier walked into a post and Roy bit back a sigh. 

"This division has a remarkable interplay between incompetency and competency. The former of which seems to increase in my presence."

She had definitely noticed. While they rarely coordinated with other units in the military, the situation occasionally required it. After one particular disastrous encounter with a noble, Lelouch suggested that the division play into stereotypes outside of combat. Lacking initiative. Unable to follow anything but the simplest orders. Physically incapable. 

Britannians feared empowering the Numbers which the division did. Each soldier, Number or commoner, had the chance to prove themselves just as skillful as some noble. And they did.

Roy took a deep breath, wondering how much she had already known. Would she blame Lelouch? 

Diplomatically, he said, "I will take whatever action necessary to protect my men, especially from reprisal of a fearful noble. No insult was meant towards you, Your Majesty."

She hummed. "I know Lamperouge made the suggestion."

"It was a mutual decision," Roy defended.

"You would lie to protect him?"

His heart thundered. "I could have stopped him."

She snorted. "Somehow, I doubt that. You've made changes in his absence, yet given the chance, you moved to shoulder the blame instead of attempting to advance your own career. If you don't seek to advance your career, what do you desire then?"

Roy swallowed. Once, he thought he had the answer. Honor and awards to make his family proud and improve his legacy. Instead, he had followed Lelouch on a suicide assignment to protect him. Even now, he stayed, to his family's displeasure. 

"For my friends and I to grow old together. To marry. Raise a family.” It didn't feel like a proper Britannian answer. 

"Yet you risk my ire. Even stood up to Bradley. You did well in Lamperouge's absence. York says you handled the transition better than expected." Empress Marianne regarded him and he froze. The past week and a half of torture had been purposeful, testing him. "Lamperouge has trouble delegating unless absolutely necessary. I was expecting more chaos upon my arrival. A substitute quaking under the sudden stress of a position.”

He flinched. That had been him until a few days before.

“It seems Lamperouge, despite his unorthodox command style, chose competent subordinates who cover his weaknesses."

Was the test for Roy or Lelouch? Had his friend's sudden vacation been orchestrated?

If his grandmother could see him now, she would yell at him for catching the attention of royals. Nothing good ever came of wading into the politics of the upper court that jostled for the Emperor's favors. And Alex was right. Lelouch had somehow managed to get himself tangled up with the Emperor. 

Why could things never be easy with him? No wonder Lelouch was already starting to have grey hairs.

Empress Marianne continued, "You handled Bradley better than most. Even seasoned commanders struggle with reigning him in. It's always an amusing test of character to let him run loose. Instructing Sir Weinberg to damage his knightmare to force him to return was a smart decision. Most don't dare to go on the offensive against him."

"He purposefully agitates my men and hospitalized one of them," Roy said, thoroughly unimpressed by the games they had been playing. "Was my performance to your satisfaction, Your Majesty? Or may we continue with the directive His Majesty has ordained?"

"Lamperouge's impertinence is contagious. You would do well in court." She sneered, surveying their surroundings. "It's a shame to have talent waste here."

"Scarcity breeds ingenuity; suffering, fortitude; and injustice, loyalty. Somewhere else, I would have floundered, Your Majesty."

"Knighthood isn't just reserved for knightmare pilots, but also those of exceptional skill. While this division may have forged you, you cannot reach new heights here. Nor can Lamperouge. If given half the resources Princess Cornelia has, he would have already conquered the Middle Eastern Federation."

Saying Empress Marianne was right would be to criticize royalty. Princess Cornelia was a military genius, likened to Athena. Birthed on the battlefield. To deny that was stepping into dangerous, uncharted territory. 

Even if Roy fully believed that Lelouch would find a way to overcome any challenge, a war would destroy him. 

Anti-terrorism and crime was in the protection of Britannia and its people. Conquest--to bring the hammer down onto other countries and forcibly subjugate them--was not. 

Roy cleared his throat, choosing his words with care. "Princess Cornelia has the wisdom of experience. While victory could perhaps be achieved quicker, there would be a cost." The tattered remains of Lelouch's innocence which had already been stolen long before. "As it is, much of our victories can be attributed to the flexibility afforded to us. Flexibility which I do not think the rest of the military would embrace at the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you do not want to leave. I will be sure to inform Charles, but the decision will rest with him. You will after all go where you serve the Empire best?"

He bowed, fearing his face would betray his true thoughts. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Excellent. Since you have ever so politely declined my generosity, what boon do you seek?"

His mind raced, before remembering the upcoming festivities and the unique chance it afforded him. "Extended block leave around Empire Day for the division. Last year, we had an operation at the time."

She raised her eyebrows. "Have you already used your allotted leave?"

"No, Your Majesty. But as Major General Lamprouge must attend to family matters around the time, my extended absence would be detrimental to the division."

“Planning another beach vacation with your girlfriend? Or is it because of your grandmother’s declining health?”

Despite her genial tone, he shivered at the blatant invasion of privacy. He and his family were being watched and she was warning him. For what purpose, he didn’t know.

“Family politics,” he said, which technically his wedding fell under. 

She huffed, exasperated, but granted the division a few extra weeks of time off before rolling away. Roy didn't allow himself to breathe easier until their caravan disappeared.

He had survived. Somehow. And once again was wondering how the hell Lelouch had managed to entangle himself with royalty.

On the bright side, with Roy and Lelouch finally having vacation time that coincided, he could begin planning his wedding in earnest. Firstly, he had a letter to write to warn Lelouch. Her Majesty's interrogation had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

Lelouch, sitting across from his two siblings, absently stirred the soup as he perused the files he requested from York. The sooner he completed his father's objective, the sooner he could return to his division. 

Being away for so long made his skin itch. There were so many things which could go wrong. And the letters from his friends had started to include annoying redactions. 

Judging from the displeased tone, it was about Bradley, but he couldn't be sure. Additionally, nobody should be censoring his mail. Not after the fiasco in Area Two. Which meant his father was meddling and didn't want Lelouch to know what he was doing exactly. Or maybe he was doing nothing and only wanted to drive Lelouch mad with the idea that he could be doing something.

"You should eat, Lelouch," Schneizel interrupted his thoughts, "instead of bringing work to dinner. It is most uncouth."

Guinevere scowled. "Your manners are disrespectful to our father's blood. Allowing your commoner heritage to display so prominently is shameful."

He pressed his lips together and neatly collected the papers, lining up the edges, and setting it aside, before returning to staring at the soup. It was probably delicious. Schneizel was hosting dinner tonight, and his cook would've undergone numerous background checks. Tasters checked all their meals. His siblings had already finished their soup without ill effects.

Rationally, it was safe.

He lifted a spoon of the ice cold fluid to his lips and forced himself to swallow as his stomach churned uneasily. Grimacing, he pushed the soup away. "My apologies. I'm not hungry."

"Perhaps if you spent less time dabbling in the kitchen, you would have an appetite," Schneizel reprimanded. "You barely ate anything yesterday either."

"Why do you sully yourself by visiting the servants' domain?" Guinevere scowled. "I see Father sent you here because your mother has been remiss in your education. Tomorrow, you can host us and we can”--she waved her hand at him--"begin to remedy whatever this is."

Lelouch took a deep breath. At parties, he had no trouble blending in and holding the mask for the scarce few hours he had to attend. His anti-social behavior helped him stay away from prying eyes and cover his more idiosyncratic habits. Here, under the constant surveillance of his two elder siblings, his mask crumbled. 

He had long forgotten how to be vi Britannia outside of balls. Who even was vi Britannia?

Being a civilian was difficult. Even Lamperouge, the doting brother who visited Nunnally, was tiresome. His back felt bare outside of his uniform. His arms hanging limplessly, useless. And after Milly yelled at him for absently playing with a knife, his hands itched for a weapon to defend himself. But people knew Lamperouge was a soldier so they made concessions.

Nunnally's friends at Ashford always stayed in his field of view. They avoided making sudden abrupt noises without warning. And they never served him tea. 

Vi Britannia's life had entirely too much tea served at every opportunity. Even in the hospital, Nathan had learned to keep him away from anesthesia. That he didn't intend an insult by only eating the food he had prepared himself. 

Schneizel and Guinevere didn't know though which made things difficult. They expected a teenager with a refined palette, impeccable manners, and innocent to the violent nature of men.

Frowning, Lelouch nodded at Guinevere. "I am afraid I would be a poor host. I do not have the necessary entourage to entertain guests."

"It needs not to be fancy," Schneizel assured. "Guinevere's idea has merit. If your cook incessantly tempts you to the kitchen, then they surely must have prodigious skill."

Lelouch glanced at the cold soup and at his siblings. He had things to scheme. A shopping list to write for Frederick, preferably in English this time. A chess game to lose in the evening. And a box of cookies to mail to Kaguya. 

Tiring of the constant deceit, he told the truth, "Cooking happens to be a hobby I enjoy. While I could prepare a meal for both of you, it would hardly be proper."

Scandalized, Guinevere pressed her fingers against her lips.

Schneizel hesitantly asked, "Lelouch, how many people do you employ?"

"My guards, Frederick and Henry," Lelouch answered. A lie would have been too easily discredited. He did take the moment to enjoy the novelty of seeing Schneizel at a loss for words.

"Brother..." Schneizel floundered. "May I ask why? Your guards are certainly not sufficient for domestic affairs and they should be focusing on guarding you."

"Servants cost money. Money which I don't have.” 

He could stop investing his father's stipend in the division and give himself a raise. It wouldn't be enough to support the lifestyle his siblings expect, but at least allow him to fill the essential positions. He didn’t want to. 

Hiring a servant was inviting another one of his father's spies into his life. Or a spy of a noble or sibling. It would mean that even in the security of his new residence he couldn't drop his mask. The servants would gossip. They would question why he only ate food he or Frederick--who always managed to overcook everything--prepared. Why he cursed in other languages. Why he never slept alone.

The last time Lelouch had willingly slept alone was before the failed assassination of his mother.

Guinevere, her usual pinched scowl absent, glanced at their brother. "If money is the issue, I'm willing to lend you some of my servants to correct this travesty. With proper budgeting, you can recompense me the necessary wages. As much as I may despise it, you are royalty. No one can live like that."

Lelouch bit back a chuckle. His sister was being almost cordial for once and he wouldn't insult her generosity. "Your concern is appreciated, but I am fine. Frederick and Henry are adequate for my needs."

"How?" Guinevere asked.

"The same way most people do, I imagine," Lelouch answered dryly. "My mother lived on less while she worked for Lord Ashford. Unlike yourself, Father does not deem such a generous allowance necessary for me. And unlike Schneizel, I do not have a lucrative career to support myself."

"How much is your stipend?" Schneizel asked and his brow furrowed at Lelouch's answer. "A child's sum. Have you not asked for a raise since you were ten?"

"I wouldn't bother Father with such paltry matters." Lelouch rose, collecting his papers. "If you would excuse me?"

"Father expects you to negotiate your stipend once a year. It is how he shows favor." Schneizel walked to his side, plucking the papers out of his hands. "As a prince, you have social responsibilities which your current monetary situation makes impossible to meet. Although I guess this casts your reclusiveness in a different light. Father will correct this oversight once you draw his attention to it."

"I'm not asking that bastard for anything," Lelouch growled, clenching his fists. He would not give him additional leverage to hold over his head. Already, Lelouch was forced to play his whims. Monetary chains would only tie him closer to the man's will.

Schneizel didn't reply, instead skimming through the intelligence reports on General Smilas and Leila Malcal. "How did you get OSI files?"

"I asked my mother," Lelouch lied. "If I could please have them back? Thank you."

Outside of the dining room, Henry fell into step behind him. "I think you have thoroughly confused your siblings."

"Good.” It would keep them off balance and keep Lelouch off his brother's chess board for now. A piece was only useful if one knew what it could do. Neither of his siblings believed the role he played at court and until he could find another appropriate mask, he would cast himself the role of a wildcard. 

"Frederick has been acting suspicious," Henry added as they entered the side of the compound reserved for them with numerous empty rooms that Lelouch couldn't fathom a use for. 

Lelouch hummed as he deposited the papers in the safe and grabbed a notepad to scribble down his shopping list. "Why do we call it a pineapple instead of ananas or some variation like the rest of the world?"

Henry sighed. "I don't know. About Frederick--"

"I trust him," Lelouch said firmly, straightening. "Hopefully, Frederick can find some cantaloupe this time. Otherwise, I will need to make a shopping expedition and I don't think my dear siblings will survive the shock when their spies report me engaging in such plebeian affairs." 

Picking up one of his prepackaged meals and checking the unbroken seal, Lelouch flashed a smile at Henry before thoughtfully staring out the window. "Grab my coat, Henry. We'll leave through the servants door. Do you think I should grab a danish as well?"

"A brat tries to pickpocket you and you bribe him with dinner," Henry groused. 

"Well they can't all be like Alex." Lelouch chuckled and his hand reflexively drifted to his pocket. "Besides, our little friend is so eager to please. Without him, we wouldn't know dear Leila's evening plans at the gentleman club to arrange our fortuitous encounter. Or that my charming brother has been sneaking into the E.U. consulate and taking care to not be seen."

Henry shook his head and dumped a coat into his arms along with a prepackaged bag of cookies. "I'm sure you'll find someone to bribe with this. Losing a chess game is going to be expensive."

"Unfortunately, but Schneizel has been making a nuisance of himself at the clubs and if he hears I did well, he'll ambush me again with an interrogation under the guise of playing chess." 

Lelouch stepped outside into the cooling evening air. Losing would also help assuage some of General Smilas's fears. While he was still figuring out the finer details of his plan, it wouldn't work if General Smilas continued to regard him with such extreme suspicion. He glanced down at the bag of cookies and pressed his lips together. 

He had to do this. For Nunnally.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area Eleven**

Somehow, Nunnally's side project had picked up countless volunteers. First, Euphie and Allie had gotten into an argument over the movie, _Empress Elizabeth and Zombies,_ and whether it was fair to tarnish the image of royalty during a student council meeting. They let their upcoming interview with the once famous star, Andrew Cameron, slip and suddenly everyone was clamoring to know the details.

Nunnally had intended to start things slowly. Reveal Britannia's cruelty to Euphie gradually so by the time she thought to look away it would be too late. 

Unfortunately, fate had different plans and unwilling to reveal that she ran the somewhat contentious _Chrysanthemum--_ which had gained a considerable following as well as an impressive collection of cease and desist letters--had lied about starting a journalism club. 

Milly invited herself. The rest of the student council followed, Rivalz recorded Mr. Cameron's interview, and, by the end of the week, the entire school had watched it.

Nunnally shook her head as she sat in the corner of what once was the student council room and had been turned into the Andrew Cameron fan club. Interviews with famous people were always risky due to the scrutiny they invited, but they had the benefit of reaching a wider audience. Unlike her mother, Mr. Cameron was approachable. When he spoke of how he broke his back doing a stunt and suddenly his old friends wouldn't meet his eyes, his pain felt relatable and too close to home. 

Who didn't fear rejection from their peers?

Britannia had made a mistake pushing Mr. Cameron out of the spotlight. Most hadn't even heard of his accident, left instead to wonder at what happened to Captain Britannia. To hear the man begging for just one last chance to perform drove them to action. 

Their concern was just for the former star. They didn't care or think of the others Britannia denied the opportunity to partake in society. But it was a beginning. Something which could be fanned. Force her parents to stop being casual observers.

Even if it was all happening way too fast for comfort.

Allie collapsed beside her with a long groan. "Trying to impose a budget on the film club is impossible. They're going all out for Andrew Cameron's Last Stand or whatever they're calling it now. I swear they've entirely scrapped the storyboard twenty times in the past hour."

As if to prove her point, one of the students exclaimed that they had a better idea and the room erupted in a cacophony of shouting and chairs screeching against the ground.

Nunnally chuckled. "Mr. Cameron is arriving in an hour. I'm sure he'll have his own ideas and they'll settle down, even if it's just hero worship."

"Did you tell them he's arriving?" Allie asked, her phone buzzing.

"Where would be the fun in that?" Nunnally frowned as her friend fell silent. "Something important?"

"Just worried... We are openly going against Britannian policy. I don't think our friends realize that. I want this to succeed, but we're going to be shut down."

Nunnally reached out and found her friend's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "They'll be too late. Why do you think I insisted on holding the meetings here? Security is more lax and, even then, Lord Ashford is busy running interference with my mother because of Kallen. He's not going to concern himself when the sudden spike of interest in film. With Milly involved, he’ll just think it's her normal insanity."

"Lord Ashford isn't the only one we have to worry about." 

"Yes, but he keeps other parties away. And due to some convenient conspiracy theories"--Nunnally elbowed her friend as she snorted--"people are using the tech club's secure messaging system."

"Isn't this great," Euphie interrupted. "Everyone is working together and there are so many new ideas. Mr. Cameron will love this." 

Nunnally winced. He had accepted the risks, saying he would do it out of spite if nothing else. But Euphie's bright vision of the future where they corrected such injustices would not pass any time soon.

"Nunnally?" Euphie asked, settling on the floor.

She could claim distraction. Pretend that she was just as naïve and then express horror when the inevitable consequences followed. Still, they were sisters and Euphie's only crime was ignorance. It would be too cruel.

"We're going to run afoul censors," Nunnally said. "Our short film might even be labeled seditious."

"Yet making Empress Elizabeth a zombie is okay?" Euphie asked, affronted. "We have freedom of the press."

Allie groaned. "Just because you think it's improper... We have a blacklisted actor who has publicly, even if only in small presses, suggested Britannia's emphasis on strength is misguided. And freedom of the press is an illusion. Everything is restricted. Gwen had to build a reputation for being _proper_ to get access to any sensitive materials. Even then, all press releases are run by someone before being made public."

"But you can still say whatever you wish," Euphie argued, her voice sharpening.

Dryly, Nunnally said, "You may want to talk to your sister.”.

"That's... military. It's different. As long as it's the truth, we're fine. Nothing happened because of the interview after all."

Nunnally smiled politely and leaned back. There was no convincing her. The truth was only a matter of perspective. Even when confronted with evidence, the narrative would be twisted out of their hands. Their interview with Mr. Cameron had been buried, more relevant celebrities suddenly pushed in people's news feed. It didn't draw traffic, thus Britannia was content to let it languish in the graveyard of the internet.

She had refrained for now from linking to it on her blog for a reason and fortunately had the foresight to share a local copy with the students. Only those on campus could access it which let it slip beneath the radar. The resulting theories from students who noticed they couldn't view it elsewhere had been amusing. 

If traffic spiked significantly, then the video would be deemed a threat.

Everything was a matter of timing. She would share the link on her blog a few hours before the short film dropped. Two long time followers had already agreed to mirror it in the E.U. and Chinese Federation. By the time her link was blocked, the short film would have dropped. Being creative content, it would hopefully take longer before being removed. The time was essential for her loyal readers to spam their private copies of the interview.

And then the OSI would come knocking and her blog would finally be shut down. _Chrysanthemum_ would live on only abroad, outside of her influence.

If only Milly hadn't jumped the gun. Nunnally could've taken her time. Built a wider network of support. Saved her precious brainchild from its demise. Forced her parents to confront the consequences of their actions.

All that wasted effort for something which would cause a few days of outrage and then be forgotten. She would need to start from scratch again. The only positive was that the Emperor wouldn’t suspect her involvement.

Her mother might be suspicious but would remain silent, not daring to damage their tenuous relationship further. Unlike the Emperor, she at least tried. 

If only she would stop peddling Britannian rhetoric. People looked up to her. Admired her for overcoming what should’ve been a career ending injury and returning with a vengeance. 

Yet she refused to advocate for accommodations. As always, Lelouch did more.

Years ago, Nunnally had promised to be his ears to help return the favor. No longer was it enough to pass on juicy rumors or to use her network to probe for information at his behest. He was still fighting and suffering because of her.

The Emperor, undeserving of the title of Father, kept pushing him, never giving him a chance to recover. 

She knew Lelouch was terrified that his attentions would turn to her and force her in a similar position to betray her morals and values. She wished the Emperor would. If only to give her brother a well deserved break.

He didn’t see her because of her blindness. It was a mistake she would make him regret.

"Rivalz is cute," Euphie suddenly said. "Him being the camera man is absolutely adorable."

Moving against the Emperor would be much easier if everyone wasn’t constantly distracted.

"Really?" Allie said slowly. "He looks like he's about to fall over. At least Roland isn't swaying and has some muscle on him. His eyes are pretty."

"He looks too much like Lelouch. What do you think Nunnally?"

"Of what?" Nunnally asked as she listened to the soft, but assured, steps of Kallen entering the room. She had a distinctive gait, always light on her toes and ready to move. 

Initially, she had thought to recruit her because of her heritage. Being half-Japanese meant she would see things more clearly. Unlike Euphie, whose optimism blinded her.

"Rivalz. Do you think he is cute?" Euphie leaned closer, her breath warming her cheek.

Nunnally pushed her back. "His grand muscles? His brilliant eyes? His hair which is spun of gold? I have no idea why you find him attractive. He smells and his voice cracks."

"You have to like someone?" Euphie insisted and Allie stilled.

Nunnally groaned. "Even if I did, I wouldn't say. What do you think Nelly would do to poor Rivalz if she heard you fancied him?"

"Which girl did Rivalz piss off now?" Kallen asked, her footsteps stopping before them.

"Nothing," Euphie quickly defended. "I just said he's cute."

"And I reminded her of our shared plight of overprotective elder siblings," Nunnally said. "I thought Lord Ashford kept you until six."

"He had a meeting," Kallen said. "I'm busy for a few weeks and return to chaos. I don't have to help, right? I barely have enough time for schoolwork as is."

Nunnally's left hand gently coasted over her watch. She had been trying to catch Kallen alone ever since the disastrous incident at the simulators, but Lord Ashford had kept her busy. Even if she wanted to stay to greet Mr. Cameron and pull him aside to deliberate, she couldn't pass up the opportunity. Milly would have to handle things.

Standing up, she stretched out her hand. "You're joining us for dinner and will regale us with your tales from work. How many times have you crashed into a wall?"

"Thank you for the offer--" Kallen began.

Nunnally tilted her head. "Do you want me to loudly pester you here?"

Bound by orders to be discreet about being a test pilot, Kallen had no choice but to accept. Lelouch and Schneizel would’ve been proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Thoughts
> 
> -My thoughts on E.U.'s system of government and a wonderful review explaining the French Consulate has led me down a lengthy rabbit hole from which I have not recovered. (Hence, Random Thoughts). Once again, I'm wondering what the hell the creators were thinking as I'm trying to make sense of the timeline. Also am just wondering if I should have Napoleon skip the dictatorship phase but who knows. Maybe everything got reformed during the First Pacific War which seems like some World War II analogue. I'm also currently debating whether the French flag even has three colors and the national motto so... 
> 
> -Roy and Naoto are heading toward a nervous breakdown. Lelouch is having a bit of an identity crisis. Nunnally has been dealing with feelings of inadequacy for a while and nursing quite a bit of resentment for years so she's a fluffy ball of rage that's flailing around and hasn't quite figured out to focus on a target yet. And starting her teens, she feels invincible. Have fun Charles and Marianne.
> 
> -I discovered via my discord that cantaloupe is a rockmelon in Australia. So Lelouch is having some issues with food being labeled otherwise.
> 
> Author's Note:  
> I've returned on time and I'm only missing one not-so-essential-internal-organ. One of my betas had to unfortunately take a hiatus so I hope the chapter wasn't too rough. They're the one who calls me out on the fact that stringing words together doesn't necessarily imbue them with meaning. And other issues such as dropped descriptions or things that just don't work. As a result, this chapter will probably undergo minor revisions to make sure things came across as I intended them to.
> 
> I'm also experimenting with including a short recap to help my numerous characters and remind you of older plot threads. What do you think? What was your favorite part this chapter?
> 
> And since I've apparently forgotten to make this explicit: If there's an element of my worldbuilding, characters, or whatever you like, feel free to use it. Credit is appreciated but unnecessary. It's fanfiction. Do whatever you will. And hey, if I inspire something, feel free to drop a link and I might take a look.
> 
> Thank you Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with proofreading.
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


	4. Prelude to Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
> 
> Recap: Under orders from General Smilas, Leila works to turn Frederick against Lelouch. Roy has survived Empress Marianne, but he’s still in charge of the division while Lelouch is absent. Nunnally tries to prove a point through media manipulation which results in Ashford Academy making a student film.

_ In contrast, the E.U. prefers to dilute fear by exploiting civic duty arising from democracy. Thus, there is no burden to appear infallible and the nation can stand strong despite weak leaders. When the government acts in the people's disinterest, the people are at fault. They were the ones who voted and allowed corruption into their government. When the E.U. shouts about the diabolical actions of Emperor Charles, they stoke fear in the citizens and offer a convenient solution: an increase of executive power.  _

_ Over the years, the E.U. has suffered the gradual decline of citizen's rights. If a citizen dares to speak out, they are reminded that, by voting, the majority has surrendered these rights. The activist thus stands alone by rejecting the will of the people. Eventually, the people will realize their lack of power and either renew the nation's democratic roots—returning power to the citizens—or will seek their own God at whose feet to lay the problems of the world. Should the latter come to pass, the E.U. will reject the bonds of brotherhoods and become no better than Britannia. _

_ —Fear: The Double Edged Sword in Governing _

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

The soft murmurs of the diner rolled over Leila as she patiently waited in the corner booth. She tucked a loose blond strand of hair beneath her hat. Britannia liberally employed spies, and she wouldn't endanger her mission by having her presence reported on. The door jingled and Jeanne, clinging on the guard's arm, gently led him to the booth.

"You're an adorable couple," Leila teased and Jeanne threw her head back, laughing.

Frederick stiffened and carefully withdrew his arm before sitting down and hunching his shoulders. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Trust me," Jeanne assured him. "There's nothing wrong about reconnecting with family. Leila and I share everything. We grew up together."

He nodded hesitantly, eyes darting back to the door. "This feels wrong."

"Please, stay," Leila said, widening her eyes. "Jeanne has been talking about you for days. I only want to meet you, but if I'm making you uncomfortable, I'll happily leave."

For a moment, he studied her intently, then his expression softened and he finally leaned back, relaxing. "It's nice to finally meet you. Lelouch speaks highly of you."

Leila ducked her head. While General Smilas continued to preach caution, the prince was a perfect gentleman to her. Unlike his siblings, he didn't seem to put much stock in propriety. He laughed easily and joked freely. When they accidentally passed each other in the city, he would always take a moment to politely greet her or even invite her along.

It was nice to have proof that all those interactions weren't a lie.

"That's wonderful to hear but lets ignore those tedious negotiations."

Leila caught his brief flicker of surprise as she changed the subject. Good. 

For now, the goal was to build a relationship. Frederick would naturally be suspicious that they were using him to get to his charge, which, to be fair, they were. However if General Smilas had not given any orders, Leila suspected Jeanne would've tried to reach out to him anyway. The bonds of family were always strong.

Smirking, she leaned forward. "Did Jeanne tell you of the time she tried to trap Santa?"

"Leila!" Jeanne shrieked and buried her face in her hands.

Afterwards, the conversation flowed naturally. They shared harmless stories from their childhood and built rapport. Frederick segued into more somber stories about his mother and aunt, which Jeanne greedily listened to. Leila noted with satisfaction that Britannia hadn't been kind to their family. It would make things easier.

Frederick laughed as he watched her cut her hamburger. "I'm so glad I only have to stand there for meals. All those posh manners, like which spoon and fork to use, is completely beyond me."

"It's greasy," she explained and ignored her snickering friend. "You don't need to learn proper manners for your job?"

"According to Lelouch it's pointless since I'm just supposed to hover menacingly." His lips quirked. "I'm quite good at that though."

Jeanne didn't need any prompting. As family, her questions would be met with less suspicion. "Shouldn't you be more formal with him? I'd hate for you to get hurt. I just met you."

"Lelouch isn't like that," Frederick quickly assured, falling for the trap. "He doesn't care much for ceremony. Princess Guinevere is constantly berating him for it."

"I guess the stories about the royals are exaggerated." Jeanne chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

Frederick fell silent, and Leila silently cursed. That remark might have reminded him of the dangers they had so casually brushed off. Not that Leila would abandon him, but he didn't know her well enough to know that. 

They had to progress carefully.

"Probably not," Frederick finally said. "They're not a lenient bunch and some of them have a temper. I'm lucky that Lelouch stress cooks."

"He actually cooks?" Leila interrupted. She had thought the sweets he brought in were from his chef. Cooking... was a commoner's task. Then again, his mother had been born a commoner.

"Yes... I really should be used to that reaction by now," he muttered. "Also, Jeanne, I forgot to thank you for helping me with my shopping list the other day. I still have no idea why they'd call a cantaloupe a rockmelon of all things."

"Shopping for a prince." Jeanne shook her head. "He must trust you a lot."

"We're... friends."

Leila suppressed a frown. Friendship would make supplanting Frederick's loyalty much more difficult, perhaps even impossible. He could very well turn on them. But if he and the prince were close, then he would have much more insight than they initially expected. The reward had doubled, but so had the risk.

"I do all of Leila's shopping," Jeanne shared, turning the conversation away from dangerous territory that would strain his loyalty. "She despises the mall. Wait, do you have malls in Britannia?"

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area Eleven**

Every weekend, Suzaku exited the Concessions and the endless insults hurtled his way, and returned to the ghetto. The secret tunnels let him bypass the checkpoints. Tohdoh was always paranoid that his picture would be taken and recognized. Or that he would be harassed by a passing Knight Police patrol and arrested.

While his heart despaired at the suffering of his people, he found solace in the blossoming community. Britannia had tried to wipe out their culture and identity, but if one knew where to look, Japan still flourished.

In the Outer Concessions, where Numbers, Honorary Britannians, and impoverished Britannians mingled, small business popped up and under the staunch Britannian facade, was a fusion of Britannian and Japanese culture. Karaoke bars had become increasingly popular in the past few years. When the Knight Police patrols passed, a watcher would run inside and they would sing proper Britannian songs.

Sometimes, the Knight Police joined in as well.

During the daytime, some bars were converted for community use. Like the establishment where Suzaku worked at, teaching martial arts on the weekend.

The sun high in the sky, Suzaku exited the karaoke bar/makeshift dojo as his various students hollered "Goodbye, Chiba-sensei!" 

A young girl ran up to him and bowed, offering a few precious coins. Hardly anything, but Suzaku wasn't technically being paid. He had his jobs in the Concessions under a false identity for that.

The coins weighed heavily in his pockets as he walked home. If his father were to see him, he would be rolling in his grave. The Kururugi heir basically destitute and lowering himself by working menial jobs.

Passing a new stand, he bit his lip and scanned the various magazines. As always, the royals were heavily featured. His hand slipped into his pocket and ran over the serrated edges of the cold medal coins. 

He really shouldn't.

The elderly Britannian nodded politely as Suzaku held up his coins and idly looked through the covers, searching for a familiar face. Princess Cornelia was apparently having great success in the establishment of Area Fifteen and United East Africa was finally petitioning to begin negotiations for their formal surrender.

A scandal in the E.U. had forced the Secretary of Defense to resign.

Prince Schneizel won another chess match, humiliating his Chinese opponent.

Beef and chocolate was expected to be more expensive due to heavy winter storms in Area Six.

Turning to the snacks, Suzaku shook his head. Nothing of particular interest. As he reached for the chocolate bar,—while he could still afford it—he caught sight of the open magazine the Britannian was absently reading and a painfully familiar face.

"Excuse me," Suzaku said. "What issue is that?"

The Brit glanced up, startled. His brow furrowed as he looked down at Suzaku's threadbare clothes and finally his face. Despite Suzaku's best efforts, he had never managed to lose Lelouch's posh Britannian accent. 

"From last week." The Brit closed the magazine. "You an Eleven?"

"Honorary Britannian." Suzaku chuckled. "I work for a noble family. I swear I mimic every accent I hear. Do you have an additional copy?"

"No. Sold out." He gestured at the cover where Lelouch stood next to two of his older siblings, completely at ease. "The negotiations are old news, but folks are interested in Empress Marianne's only child. It's quite rare to get such a good photo of him. He's rather camera shy." 

Suzaku was painfully aware.

"He has a younger sister," Suzaku said absently as he accepted the magazine. Why was his hair always blond? It felt so alien. As if everything of his old friend had been bleached away. Lelouch had probably forgotten him. "How much?"

"You interested in the negotiations... Or the prince?"

Suzaku averted his eyes. It wasn't like he was stalking his former best friend. "The prince?"

"Always heartening to see your folks take an interest in the royals. An inspiring lot. Especially Empress Marianne." Chuckling, he turned and rustled through a stack of papers. "To think she married into the family. Gives a man hope. Well, not me. I'm a bit old for that. Ah, here it is. You play chess?"

"I'm rather terrible at the game," Suzaku said as the Brit shoved a chess magazine into his face. 

"From about a year ago. Lord Genz reported on a chess match between Prince Schneizel and Prince Lelouch. He even took a few pictures."

In the first, Lelouch intently studied the board, resting his chin on his folded hands. It was an unusually candid shot and Suzaku was sure he hadn't been aware of the camera. 

The second photo had him staring directly into the camera, Prince Schneizel grasping his shoulder in apparent brotherly affection. Lelouch's smile was perfectly polite—the one that suggested he wasn't mad but always preceded a string of minor misfortunes. 

Suzaku snorted. Even after all these years, some things never changed.

"You play chess?" he asked, reluctantly setting down the magazine. 

"A little. Mostly blitz which is ten minutes for a game. I don't have time for the classical game. Did try my hand at a few local tournaments. Won a few games; lost a lot more. Makes the heart race." The Brit studied him intently. "Tell you what, buy that issue and I'll give you this one free of charge. It's always good to see a young man like yourself embrace our culture."

"Thank you," Suzaku stuttered, passing the necessary coins. 

His fingers brushed over the photo. Did Lelouch remember him? Their lives were so different and if they met, they would be enemies. While Tohdoh refused to let him join the JLF before he was eighteen, Suzaku was already skirting the law teaching children Japanese and traditional martial arts.

Tucking the two magazines under his arm, he unlocked the door to their apartment. Chiba would be busy until later in the evening, running the local JLF cell and coordinating with various local resistance cells. Officially, she was a waitress.

Suzaku wandered into the silent kitchen, grabbed an apple, and settled into a chair to read. Perhaps he was torturing himself by trying to keep track of his friend. Nothing good could come from this.

Yet...

He couldn't let go. 

The brief glimpses into Lelouch's life were never enough. They revealed nothing of value. Was Lelouch happy? Did he still make up elaborate secret codes? Had he replaced Suzaku with a proper Britannian friend? 

At least the chess article, as dry as it was, confirmed Lelouch was still a chess fanatic. 

"A chess magazine, really?" Tohdoh interrupted his musings.

Suzaku shot to his feet, hiding the magazine behind his back. Only then realizing that made it look like he had something to hide.

"You're not supposed to be back yet!" he squeaked. 

Great. That hadn't been suspicious at all.

Not that he had been doing anything wrong...

Tohdoh observed him for a moment, then began digging through the kitchen. "After the last few weeks, all of us desperately needed a break. How have things been here?"

"Mostly calm except for the fire that broke out last week. We managed to put it out before it could cause too much damage." Suzaku rubbed the back of his head and behind his back, shoved the magazine behind the rice cooker. 

* * *

**Zeroth Division Base, Area Six**

Roy stepped into the mess tent and grimaced as the conversation suddenly died and hundreds of boots hit the ground. Suddenly, his men were overly courteous and if Roy found whoever started this grand game of excessive formality, there was going to be hell to pay. When he crossed the base, soldiers would walk in long spaced out lines, deliberately going out of their way to salute him. Propriety demanded he return the salute as he hurried past, their eyes boring into him. He had started to take obscure routes to avoid having his arm fall off. 

Grabbing lunch, he spotted Gino hunched over the table, eating with one hand and scribbling with the other.

"That better not be the paperwork you were supposed to turn in yesterday," Roy commented, sitting down besides him. In an attempt to avoid a repeat visit from Bradley, they had decided to supplement their forces by asking for a temporary knightmare pilot. If they could work with Numbers, they would be offered a permanent position after their trial run. 

Unfortunately, the task of filling out knightmare pilot requests forms fell to Gino. Roy, in Lelouch’s stead, only had to approve it.

Gino's shoulders dropped. "I forgot, sir. I never had to do this much paperwork with Lelouch."

That was a sentiment shared by many.

"Lelouch called your handwriting a crime against humanity. He actively avoided giving you paperwork," Roy said. "Unlike him, I have more patience and will simply make you rewrite your illegible mess."

"I'll have you know I had the finest tutors." Gino sniffed. "My handwriting is gorgeous. You're too plebeian to understand it."

"Lelouch's handwriting belongs in a museum, reading yours counts as cruel and unusual punishment," Roy refuted.

"Oh, is it 'pick on Commoner Boy day’?" Alex asked. As always, no one heard him approach.

Dramatically, Gino clutched his chest and whined, "Alex, my dear friend, are you trying to kill me?"

"If I was, I would simply inform Roy about the giant—"

Gino spun around, slapping a hand over Alex's mouth. Roy decided for the sake of his sanity not to ask. If it was important, someone would bring it to his attention. There was only so much of Gino's antics he could tolerate in any given week. The quota was usually filled by Tuesday.

"I swear Lelouch only keeps you around to shatter the illusion of nobility," Roy grumbled. 

Nobles never debased themselves by interacting with commoners. They were superior in every sense of the word. Beyond reproach. Not... Gino.

Roy's experiences had swept aside the rational world his parents presented. His superiors had been cruel, corrupt, and incompetent. They were more concerned with increasing their own wealth than protecting the people who swore loyalty to them. The Numbers, who his parents called untrustworthy scum, made better officers than the nobles.

"And because I'm a good knightmare pilot," Gino added. He cheerfully took a bite of his food. "You know, I miss Lelouch randomly popping into the kitchen. The food was good then."

Roy glared at him. He knew everyone was feeling Lelouch's absence. Empress Marianne's surprise visit had kept them on their toes and united against a common ene—irritant. With her gone, they were free to judge Roy without fear of consequences and found him woefully lacking. Additionally, the heavy winter rains had caused massive flooding, severely impacting many of their families. The people of Area Six were restless, leaning towards a desperate rebellion.

Going after nobles who dared to oppose the Emperor was easy. When it was the Numbers, Lelouch had to walk a delicate tightrope as he balanced his mens’ desires with their orders. Hopefully, he would return before Roy had a mutiny on his hands.

Conversing quietly, Pablo entered the tent accompanied by the greying Command Sergeant Major. Known as Lucky Jim, he held the dubious honor of being the longest serving soldier within the division. James Gill had full Britannian citizenship, but his mother was a Five. After questioning an officer, he had been sent to the 712th to die. 

Against all odds, he managed to survive for twenty years. After the Count's defeat, he extended his enlistment at Lelouch's request. His experience had been essential to getting the division back up and running after Empress Marianne purged the officer ranks.

Sergeant Major Gill sat down across from him. "Any news?"

Heads turned their way, anticipating his answer.

"Lelouch is indefinitely detained," Roy answered. "Unless he snaps and murders his family. Frederick's words, not mine. Lelouch hasn't said much outside of asking how we are doing and sharing some new recipes." Deciphering the coded messages always gave Roy a headache. 

Unofficially, Lelouch expected to return either after Roy’s wedding or a few weeks after Empire Day. For now, he would keep the information to himself. Circumstances could still change and giving the men hope, only to crush it, would be devastating.

Pablo, dark bags under his eyes, massaged his temples. "Tell him to hurry up. Unless it is a funeral, in which case, remind him to take care of himself."

"Funerals take forever," Gino chimed in. "Had my Great Aunt's a few years ago and it was just one complication after another. At least nobody trusted me to do anything for it."

Alex laughed. "Someone please tell him his father died and take a picture. I will pay you."

"Will he make it for your wedding?" Pablo asked, shaking his head at Alex's antics.

"Yes," Roy answered, smiling softly. It would be strange to be out of uniform together.

Pablo raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell him he's your best man?"

"No... You know he would try to talk me out of it," Roy defended himself at everyone's judging looks. "He's already agreed to help with the preparations. I'm sure he can come up with a speech on time. And I've left enough hints that he should be able to work it out."

Colonel Lopez sniggered. "He's not. Gosling doesn't understand romance at all. We were out in town and a girl gave him a rose. First, he thought she was bribing him. Then, that it was a secret message. When he couldn't find one, he became paranoid that it was an attempt to distract him..."

"I tried. God help me, I tried," Pablo groaned, burying his head in hands. "I got so close on his birthday too, but he fled when it finally got through his thick skull what was happening."

"I could've told you he wouldn't appreciate the pun on his last name." Roy smirked, remembering the incident. Lelouch hadn't been able to look anyone in the eye for an entire week. 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Pablo said. "Next time, I will be more subtle. In hindsight, matters of the heart shouldn't be rushed."

"Next time?" Sergeant Major Gill asked. "He might actually kill you instead of dumping all of his paperwork on you."

"It'll be worth it." Pablo frowned. "Is there anyone he's shown interest in?"

Someone down the table called out, "Major Felix? He did seek out her company."

Roy closed his eyes. "They were geeking out over grammar. Don't ask. I left when they began discussing something called morphemes. She helps him with his local dictionary."

"Anyone?" Pablo asked desperately.

Everyone turned to Alex who paused, fork midway to his mouth. "What are you looking at me for?"

"You're his best friend," Pablo said. "If anyone knows, it's you."

Alex chewed slowly. "Actually, there is a girl. She asks him to marry her every time they meet. He's very insistent that they're not engaged, but he makes custom sweets for her."

The room quieted in eager anticipation. Roy wondered if he should try to preserve Lelouch's precious privacy.... But he was curious. For Lelouch to give her presents, he had to be interested. This was something they could work with. Maybe, Roy should gently suggest to Lelouch that he could bring a date. Say that it was customary for a wedding.

Next to him, Sergeant Major Gills caught his eyes, nodding. Roy would defer to his judgement in letting the conversation proceed. He knew the men better than him.

Alex smirked because he was a little piece of shit. "She's how we can afford the extra knightmares."

The room groaned. Of course Lelouch would accidentally seduce a lady and then string her along for money. Really, what had they expected?

"Oh, fuck you, Pipsqueak," someone shouted from across the room.

Pablo's head swiveled with unerring accuracy. "Language! Children are present."

Predictably, Alex vehemently protested that he wasn't a child. Gino, being only sixteen, shrunk in his seat. It didn't let him escape Pablo's protective wrath. Someone suggested that the no swearing rule should be repealed which, once again, began an argument over how old Lelouch actually was. 

Roy rested his head against the table as the argument continued over his head. He raised his hand, silencing everyone. "You're all formally invited to my funeral for when Lelouch inevitably kills me upon seeing you sorry lot. I won't forgive you... Actually, I may, if your presence sends my cousin, Charles, after me."

"Charles?" Sergeant Major Gills chuckled. "Pandering much?"

"It's considered good luck to— Never mind, I'm not defending my cousin." Roy scowled. "He's a rotten bastard anyway. My cousin. Not the Emperor."

Pablo rested his head on his hand. "We actually have a lot of Charles... And Brandons among the older folks. My grandfather loves to complain that every tenth girl is now named Marianne, Mariam, or Mary."

Colonel Lopez nodded. "Lots of folks named after royalty. I believe Ody is named after Prince Odysseus. He's rather on par with his namesake."

"Could've sworn there's a Prince Lelouch," someone said down the table.

People chuckled and Roy frowned thoughtfully. There was something...

"The Emperor has like a hundred kids. Not that hard to be named after one of them," Alex said.

"Our Lelouch is better," Pablo said smugly. "Although, can you imagine him trying to deal with a bunch of prissy royals?"

"I doubt General Cornelia is prissy," Gino said. "Empress Marianne knows how to fight and taught her. General Cornelia isn't going to be sitting around in a G-1 Base looking pretty."

"Doesn't mean much," Sergeant Major Gill said. "The Embezzling Prince was some great military genius. Still needed his silk sheets."

"Who?" Gino asked.

"When you were a kid. More of a kid," Sergeant Major Gill said. "There's always some royal genius of the decade they tout. First the Emperor. Then Prince Schneizel. The Embezzling Prince would've been next. Come to think of it, we're probably due for another rising star."

What was Roy missing? Something about Empress Marianne?

Major Palmer walked up to their table and pulled out a few pounds. "I'll bet on Prince Lelouch and Gosling being the same."

Sergeant Major Gill accepted the money and folded it neatly. "There are easier ways to lose money. Like burning it."

"But what if I'm right?" Major Palmer asked. "I would make a killing."

Roy stared, utterly bewildered. 

"You lost the last twenty bets you've made," Sergeant Major Gill said, pulling out a notebook. Major Palmer didn't back down. "Fine. But this is the last one. Find something better to waste your money on."

"Why are you betting on Lelouch?" Roy shouted, finding his mind again. "That's completely inappropriate. And you accepted the money. You're the bookie?"

"Relax, Gosling knows," Sergeant Major Gill assured.

Alex laughed. "Of course, we're gambling, Roy. Lelouch takes a small cut of the profits to fund special events. It's also highly entertaining."

Colonel Lopez frowned. "Hey, Jimmy. Remind me what bets Alex made?"

"I never placed any bets under my name." Alex frowned. 

Roy sighed. The two of them were too predictable sometimes. "You placed some under Lelouch's name, right?" Sheepishly, Alex nodded. "Well, Lelouch probably had the same idea."

"Impressive. Maybe you want to try your hand," Sergeant Major Gill said. "You'd have better luck than Palmer, at least."

"Absolutely not," Roy said. "I will not condone gambling on fellow soldiers."

Sergeant Major Gill studied him intently, then sagged. "Damn it. I owe Lelouch twenty pounds. I thought for sure I had it this time."

Roy took back every nice thing he had ever said to Lelouch. He was going to murder his friend slowly and methodically. 

"Lelouch never gambles unless he's sure he'll win," Alex said. "So, tell me, what did I gamble on?"

"It is your name..." Sergeant Major Gill shrugged and flipped through the notebook. "He only made three."

Roy should claim ignorance and make his escape now. But the offer to peak inside Lelouch's mind was too tempting. "We're waiting."

Sergeant Major Gill's eyes widened, and at Roy's nod, he leaned back. "First: The Prime Minister will lose a public chess game to one of his younger sisters at her birthday party."

The room became deadly quiet. Lelouch had placed a bet on royalty. Was he insane?

"That's very specific," Colonel Lopez murmured.

Gino laughed. "Prince Schneizel losing a chess game? Especially towards one of his younger sisters? That's never going to happen."

Was this some ridiculous plot concocted by Lelouch? He had to know that Prince Schneizel would always win. And betting on royalty was risky to put it mildly. Then again, Lelouch liked pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable.

"He has a fair bit of money on it," Sergeant Major Gill said. "Second: Gino will— Oh right, can't say that one. It's rude to tell someone about bets pertaining to them."

Gino pouted. "Dude, please? You're killing me, here. I want to know what Lelouch thinks. Come on, tell me, please?"

Sergeant Major Gill looked at him dismissively. "Yeah... it's not happening. I can't see it. You're too... you."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you have sudden urges to murder people? Imitate Sir Bradley?"

"No..." Gino's eyes widened. "Don't tell me Lelouch thinks I'm going to turn evil."

Roy pinched his nose. "Gino, we don't call a Knight of the Round evil. What's the last one?"

"If Lelouch Lamperouge takes an extended leave from the division, Roy Fadiman will do admirably in his absence." 

The room was gratefully silent.

At the end of lunch, Sergeant Major Gills followed him outside. "Thanks for letting that play out. Most of our men are from Area Six and they're worried about their family. A distraction does them good and Lelouch is gossip worthy."

"He is, isn't he?" Roy whispered. He wondered if Lelouch had planned for his bets to be discovered when he left. To everyone else, they represented his real thoughts and such a statement of trust would assuage the men's uncertainties. It felt like something Lelouch would do.

Sergeant Major Gills chuckled softly. "The rumors help ground him. It's funny watching the greenies stumble over themselves as they connect Lelouch to the venerated Gosling. They think he's unbeatable. Some have money on him being the reincarnation of Napoleon." He shook his head. "How they would ever collect on that, I don't know. Lelouch thinks it's a joke, but they mean it earnestly."

Napoleon, the great conqueror, Britannia's devil. Killed by the people he fought for.

"He's from money," he continued. "Had an education that rivaled yours. Yet, isn't it rather strange, that he and Alex, a street-rat, understand each other best?” Sergeant Major Gills saluted. “Have a good day, Brigadier Fadiman."

Roy was left with his thoughts and a desperate urge to review Empress Marianne's actions. 

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area Eleven**

When the student council was finally galvanized into action, no one could resist the sheer storm of will dragging every unwilling participant along. Kallen included. She had tried her best. Sought every excuse. But in the end, Milly Ashford always had her way.

Her persistence was only rivaled by the sheer determination Nunnally displayed in befriending her. Or whatever her constant invitations that she would be forced to accept were.

Nunnally's casual blackmail behind a deceptively sweet smile, aside. Their excursions were never boring.

The last restaurant, where the Concessions turned into the ghettos, had served both Japanese and Britannian food. After years of only enjoying her culture in Kaguya's presence, it was a relief to relax and enjoy nostalgic dishes. Nunnally had dug into the food with surprising gusto, even using a pair of chopsticks with remarkable ease. 

Allie had passed her a pair of chopsticks and then spent the entire course of dinner attempting to teach a befuddled Euphie how to use them. 

For Britannians, the three of them were all right.

However, Kallen had numerous questions as to why Nunnally was on first name basis with the owner, an Honorary Britannian, Brian. He had greeted her on the streets like an old friend and then happily accompanied them to his restaurant, both of them conversing in French. Hidden beneath his jacket, was a gun. And if he wasn't strange enough, he apparently owed her brother a favor.

"What were you thinking?" Nunnally shouted as she stormed into the student council room, Euphie on her heels. "Oh. That's right. You don't."

"It's improper to shout," Euphie said, crossing her arms. "I did you a favor. Just because it wasn't your idea, doesn't make it a bad one."

"I can't believe—" Nunnally threw up her arms. "I told you not to tell anyone for a reason."

Allie slipped past them and walked up to her, dumping a collection of chess books on the table. "What are you working on, Kallen? I thought you finished all your homework already."

"Father is taking me on a business trip to New York. So..." Kallen gestured at her work. "I'm making up all my assignments now." 

Lord Ashford had insisted she leave the Area during May. Frankly, Kallen thought he was being a little paranoid about Empress Marianne's upcoming arrival. Surely, she had more important things to do that harass some school girl, even if Kallen was the new test pilot. 

Lord Ashford hadn't been convinced.

"Why are they fighting?" Kallen asked, setting her work aside in favor of the unusual sight of Euphie getting angry. That girl could be wrongfully accused of murder and not break a sweat. Yet, faced with Nunnally's wrath, she was clutching her hair. "They're normally so close."

"I know," Allie grumbled before sitting down. "It's been brewing for days ever since Euphie intervened with that hotdog vendor."

Euphie half raised her hand as if to slap her. "How can you say that! He's family. He would never hurt anyone."

"Stop sticking your head in the sand!" Nunnally took a step forward. "He'll get someone else to do his dirty work for him of course."

Allie's forehead kissed the table, and she let out a long groan. "This is going to take a while."

"I'm not going to get any work done, am I?" Kallen asked. "Why is Nunnally mad that Euphie told off those men? I wouldn't think she cared about the vendor being an Eleven."

"Well, I don't give a shit about your good intentions!" Nunnally screamed and finally quieted, panting heavily.

"Because he hasn't been able to sell a thing since," Allie said quietly. "The Knight Police got wind of an Eleven forgetting their place. Nunnally's been trying to help him file the paperwork so he can set up somewhere safer."

"So we should do nothing?" Euphie asked, echoing Kallen's thoughts. "I'm not going to idly stand by when I can help."

"But you're not the one paying the consequences," Nunnally hissed. "No. That'll be Mr. Cameron. Thanks to you, he will be seen as an active conspirator!"

Wait...

Kallen whispered, "Is this about Prince Clovis announcing he's supporting the arts by showcasing student work?" At the puzzled look, she explained, "Lord Ashford called Prince Clovis an idiot when he announced it. Apparently, he wasn't informed."

"They're screening the film before it goes public," Allie said.

While Nunnally had snuck in some rather unpatriotic messages inside, that hardly was a reason to worry. There was no law against a disabled actor performing. At most, it would cause a minor uproar, and Clovis would clutch his pearls as he proclaimed some idiotic platitudes. 

"I'll pay for it," Euphie declared, extending her hand, "because nothing will happen. Everyone worked hard on it and they deserve acknowledgement for their efforts, Mr. Cameron included. People will love it and demand that Mr. Cameron act again."

"That's exactly the problem," Nunnally snapped.

"Because you're a coward?"

"Excuse me?" 

"Every time someone says something rude about you or Lelouch, you ignore them. You let them think you're stupid. Want them to think that. If you don't have the courage to stand up for yourself, then at least do so for Lelouch. At least I fight for my sister."

Kallen winced. The fastest way to draw Nunnally's ire was to insult her brother. The second was to imply she was weak. 

Last week, a boy had asked her on a date, and when she politely turned him down, he implied she should be thankful that he had even bothered to notice damaged goods. Everyone heard her verbally eviscerating the boy.

According to Allie, Nunnally was loud because she started every engagement at a disadvantage. To not be ignored, she had to be unavoidable. 

Even in chess, Nunnally played with unparalleled aggression. Her voice rang with confidence as she dictated the moves to Allie. Her moments of hesitation preceded a devastating win.

Kallen had learned to fear Nunnally’s quiet moments when she faded into the background, forgotten, but still listening. When she spoke softly, it was because she already won. Knew all the right words to achieve her desire.

Despite knowing her for longer, Euphie hadn't realized. 

Whatever she was referencing—for it most definitely wasn't at school where Nunnally's brother was respected and everyone knew to speak ill of the siblings was to incite Milly's wrath—wasn't as it seemed. 

Perhaps a long con from Nunnally. Or a situation where they had no power. 

Commoners didn't have the nobility's luxury of speaking their mind.

"You dare—" Nunnally took a deep breath. When she spoke again, it was cold and calm. "Imagine for a moment. that your sister had to choose between killing some innocent peasant and saving your life. She'd choose you naturally. You are her sister after all. But what if it was an entire village? How many lives are you worth? Ten, a hundred, a thousand?"

How many would Kallen kill if it meant Japan's freedom? She was an ace, expected to serve the Empire and slaughter its foes. If Kaguya insisted, how many would Kallen kill to preserve her cover? 

This is what Kaguya had meant, saying she had to become a Britannian. To ruthlessly sacrifice everyone at the altar of a war god and pray it would be enough to ensure victory.

It was how Britannia won...

Kallen shivered. She would happily fight Britannians. They were the ones who had declared war. If necessary, she would even turn on her classmates.

But to kill her own people...

Euphie stumbled backwards and Nunnally advanced, her head slightly turned to the side.

"So tell me, what would you do? They're dying because of you," Nunnally finished, barely audible from across the room.

Thirteen... She was only thirteen, but her words were unfathomably cold. No one should look like that as if all the happiness of life had been sucked away, leaving a husk that barely resembled a human.

Unsettled, she desperately turned to Allie who met her gaze calmly as if nothing was terribly amiss.

Euphie finally found her voice. "I would make sure that she never had to make that decision."

"You aren't afforded that luxury," Nunnally said without a shred of mercy.

Kallen should intervene. Step in. Nunnally wasn't seeking to win their argument, but to draw blood. 

"I would remain true to myself and my beliefs. I'm only responsible for my actions and if Nelly were to commit an unspeakable crime in my name, I would make sure she faced justice."

Nunnally threw back her head and laughed. "Then you are a fool. Allie, we're leaving."

She lingered in the doorway as her friend packed her books and stood without a word of protest.

"And what would you do?" Euphie asked.

"Kill them first so my brother doesn't have to sully his hands further. Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to do that, am I?"

The door slammed shut and Kallen swallowed nervously at the sudden jarring silence. For a moment, she had seen the real Nunnally. Not the one who laughed in the school halls and always seemed filled with endless good cheer. Nor had it been the one who fearlessly wandered to the edge of the ghetto and found a friend in every direction she turned. Even the quiet Nunnally—who fought viciously with words and secrets she had no right to know—paled in comparison.

The real Nunnally was angry like a dying sun and her rage eerily similar to Kallen's own.

Euphie crumpled to the floor. Soft sobs, barely audible, escaped her. Mostly though, she just sat there. Frozen except for her hands as they gathered the fabric of her skirt. 

Awkwardly, Kallen knelt down and patted her on the back, waiting for the minute tremors to subside.

"I'm sure you two will be laughing about this tomorrow," she consoled. That was what a loyal Britannian would do? Or would they condemn a crying girl for showing weakness?

"No, she won't," Euphie said between her sobs. "She'll just pretend it never happened... like always."

"What set her off?" Kallen asked. "She suddenly became... cold. I've never seen her like that."

Euphie hiccupped. "She reminded me of Sch— I shouldn't have brought up Lelouch."

Kallen crossed her legs, shivering as her bare skin made contact with the ice cold ground. Here, finally, was a unique opportunity to make sense of the numerous contradictions that Nunnally left in her wake. 

"From the way everyone talks about him, he sounds like an angel." As if a Britannian soldier could ever be anything but a monster. "He doesn't sound like the type to kill innocents." He probably enjoyed it.

"He was never an angel." Euphie chuckled weakly, but at least she had stopped crying. "Used to drive Nelly mad with his constant pranks. I thought it was incredibly hilarious. But he would never condone a senseless slaughter. Even to save Nunnally. I can't believe she—"

Kallen grimaced as she began crying again. "People say things they don't mean when they're angry."

"She used to be so happy..." Euphie wiped her eyes and stared at her lap. "I came here because I thought I could make her smile again. For real."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Her lower lip quivered and she twisted her hands together. "I know something happened to Lelouch. Before that... She smiled honestly. She had all these grand ideas which we would discuss. Her letters were filled with exciting discoveries or stories about her new found friends. I was so jealous of her freedom. And then, she suddenly stopped. Her letters afterward were... clinical."

For someone who wasn't there, his influence stretched alarmingly far. 

The door cracked open and Milly stepped in, her smile slipping as she caught sight of them on the floor. "What happened here?"

"Nunnally had a fight with her," Kallen answered, patting Euphie on the back as fresh tremors tore down her spine. "Something about her brother set her off."

"Oh," Milly whispered and closed the door firmly. A small key locked it shut and Kallen reached for her hidden knife. "Come on, Euphie. Let it all out. Sometimes, you've just got to cry."

Given permission, the dam burst and Euphie latched onto Kallen, fingers painfully digging into her skin. She froze, and Milly shot her a pitying look, before kneeling and pulling Euphie into a hug.

"She hates me," Euphie cried. 

"She loves you very much," Milly reassured. "It'll all blow over soon."

Euphie withdrew. "You know." Her voice rose, words dripping in anger. "You know what happened to Lelouch. Say something."

Milly folded her hands in her lap, but remained silent.

"I order you to tell me!"

Kallen flinched at the sudden command, dripping with authority and expectation of obedience. Gone was the vibrant girl overflowing with sickening optimism, replaced with a spoiled noble brat. If this was what Nunnally had dealt with, then no wonder she had gotten angry. 

Demanding things as if they were owed to her. How very Britannian.

"I don't know," Milly said without any inflection.

Euphie staggered to her feet. "Don't lie to me. You will tell me the truth."

"No," Milly said, intently studying the floor. "It is not my secret to tell."

"I am—"

"—a student," Milly interrupted firmly," at  _ my _ grandfather's school. I understand you are upset, but you have no authority over me Lady Lichtberg. If you want answers, you may ask Nunnally or Lelouch yourself. It is their secret to tell. Otherwise, you will drop this line of questioning. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Euphie seemed ready to press further, then she regally strode past Milly to tug the door open. It was locked. Milly huffed and pushed past her to unlock it. 

Her loud footsteps echoed down the hall. When they finally dissipated, Milly relaxed and twirled her hair. "Oh, dear. I really didn't expect her to forget her place like that. I think it's best if this is just kept between you and me. Don't want to start any unsavory rumors."

Kallen nodded mutely. That had been the first time she had seen Milly draw on her rank like that. She was always so down to Earth that most people forget that she was Lord Ashford's granddaughter until they said something improper and frantically apologized, remembering who Milly was. 

It was always an amusing sight. 

That had to be her first display like that. Otherwise, the rumor mill would've never let them forget it.

"Is Nunnally alright?" Kallen asked. "She said some worrying things."

The door shut again and Milly regarded her coolly. "What things?"

"She's very angry, but she implied her brother..." Kallen floundered. "She said she would kill for him."

Milly's eyebrows drew together and her lips thinned. "We all have our demons. Nunnally's are bigger than most's. I'm glad that she's opening up to you. There are things she doesn't dare to talk about with me, but since you're half-Japanese—"

Nunnally had mentioned how the ground shook when a knightmare passed. Likened it to a bomb.

Kallen gasped. "She was here before the invasion."

Milly faced the door, her face hidden. "Both her and Lelouch. Considering my grandfather— Their pain is not something I fully comprehend."

"Yet her brother joined the army." Kallen sneered. How could anyone witness the devastation wrought onto Japan and think the appropriate course of action was to extend Britannia's  _ kindness  _ throughout the world?

"And you're a Britannian noble attending a fancy school built by the man who designed Britannia's most potent weapon. Spare me the moral high ground."

Not stupid enough to admit that she still fought for Japan, Kallen snapped her mouth shut.

"Euphie means well, and while she knows they were here for invasion, she doesn't understand what that means. Nor did I until Nunnally lost her temper with me. I think she's trying to break the news a little more gently this time." Milly leaned against the door, deadly still. "It's a fool's errand. I didn't fully believe it until I snuck into Grandpa's office and read the copies of his report."

Opening the door, Milly stepped through. "Oh. I was thinking we could do a reenactment of Washington's Rebellion for Empire Day. Think of all the costumes. And the special effects." She looked over her shoulder, a lecherous grin spreading across her face. "You would be absolutely gorgeous in a red strapless dress. "

Kallen's cheeks flamed. "I'm... out of town!"

"That's a shame. Guess I'll have to console myself with dropping by in gym class." With that parting comment, Milly left as if they had been discussing the mindless matters of schoolchildren and not the scars of an invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts
> 
> -Dragged myself out of the Napoleonic wars, only to realize the dates of the wiki are very screwy. According to canon, Napoleon never became the Emperor because he was executed by revolutionists sometime between 1814-1821, "saving the revolutionary republic." Only problem, he became the Emperor in 1804… Also, if Napoleon just went and kicked the bucket, the Bourbons would've retaken the throne. Which is what happened after Napoleon's exile and sent the country into a very tumultuous time period.
> 
> \- The Zero Requiem is thematically beautiful but hand waves the long term consequences of imperialism and colonialism. Britannia violently oppressed its Areas and it's heavily implied, if not outright stated, that they committed genocides. Tokyo was also rebuilt in the Britannian style implying that Britannia practiced a settler style of colonialism. This means removing the native population, destroying their national identity and language, and establishing a large settler population that completely controls the economy. They only care about the land, not the people. The Chinese Federation also colonized India, so they're a colonial superpower as well. Lastly, the E.U. is French which has a long history of colonization, especially in Africa. Given that they're a democratic nation, they may be employing neo-colonialism which uses economics, politics, and culture to suppress nominally free countries. (And while I'm not counting Akito as canon, it shows the Japanese in what looks like concentration camps…) Point is, every superpower in CG is oppressive implying a world culture that embraces colonialism. After the Requiem, many of the countries (especially older colonies) which are freed won't have the ability to stand politically independent. If they remain a colony, then they perpetuate Britannian/French/Chinese cultural superiority. Optimistically, Lelouch broke the cycle of hatred, but he literally didn't have the time (3 months) to change the geopolitical landscape that incentivizes governments to exploit another for resources.
> 
> -On Africa: I goofed. My initial worldbuilding was focused on the Americas and Britannia. So the Middle Eastern Federation sorta ended up in Africa? Yeah, no. Area 18 is supposed to be the Middle Eastern Federation. Cornelia in this timeline is a tad delayed since a) the invasion of Japan happened a year later and b) Charles gave her less resources. As Africa is huge, I split it into a few countries which have strong ties to the E.U. because of colonial history, but are, on paper, at least democratic and independent. Britannia regards the African countries' claim to independence with amusement. They still see them as French territories and like their own Areas but with extra steps. Britannia is willing to acknowledge them though, because it makes it easier to declare war on them without dragging the E.U. into a direct confrontation.  
> \---  
> Author's Note
> 
> I really meant to update last week, but I sort of wrote far ahead but out of order and didn't get this chapter together until this Wednesday. The next chapter is rather long and I'm trying to trim it a bit through editing, but I'll be posting it next week. 
> 
> Minor changes to the last chapter regarding military accuracy. I'm also fixing my Middle Eastern Federation flub. Doesn't really impact the plot. 
> 
> How's the pacing for everyone? I simultaneously feel like I'm going way too fast, but also agonizingly slow. So I have no idea how it feels on your end. 
> 
> And yes, I wrote an entire scene on Lelouch's lack of a love/sex life. Frankly, every CG fic needs one. 
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: discord.gg/uSBegVj
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 for your help with betaing. Additional thanks to Curious Beats for reviewing my military stuff.


	5. Dance of Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
> 
> Recap: Nunnally is dealing with Euphie's good intentions. Lelouch schemes in Australia and handles his siblings. Marianne is nosy

_The E.U. and the Chinese Federation represent the greatest threat to Britannia's rule. The nations have an unsteady alliance but freely trade with another in order to stand against the economic might of the Britannian Empire. In pursuing conquest, Britannia has prioritized the acquisition of territories with military strategic value, ignoring alternative means of weakening her enemy._

_The Middle Eastern Federation is often forgotten outside of its use as a staging zone for a proposed invasion into the E.U. or Chinese Federation. It's resources are of little value to Britannia, given that Area Two and Area Six supply much of her oil. The E.U. and the Chinese Federation rely on the M.E.F.'s oil to fuel their own production. Both have an uneasy alliance with the M.E.F to protect their economic interest and keep a buffer state between the two. Should Britannia conquer the M.E.F, both the E.U. and China will prepare for war to gain control of the territory. The only question will be who attacks first and when. The situation may possibly result in both nations joining forces to attack Britannia._

_Britannia's foreign policy goal should be to keep her enemies focused on another, instead of herself. To do this, one should consider what has allowed the M.E.F. to remain independent since the First Pacific War: the control of trade between the E.U. and China. The port of Djibouti..._

_-An Analysis of the Middle Eastern Federation's Role in International Trade by Lelouch vi Britannia_

* * *

**Outer Concessions, Area Eleven**

There were few scents etched into Nunnally's mind that could never be mistaken. No matter how faint or how long it had been, they would bring their associated memories into focus with startling clarity.

Some were innocent.

The tangy sweet and citric scent of oranges that always followed in Allie's wake and every warm moment shared between them.

Some, bittersweet.

The fresh cherry blossoms of spring-that perfume loved to imitate yet failed to perfectly capture-would never compare to those moments where she, Lelouch, and Suzaku picnicked beneath the sakura tree.

Some, nostalgic

Rice slowly simmering in a pot when Lelouch returned and recalled recipes from a time she ought to forget.

Yet these paled when she was forced to relive that night.

The sharp scent of gunpowder wafting through the air. The aroma of lavender detergent clinging to the guard as he pulled her away. The inescapable copper stench that would forever scar her memories.

The faint, but still recognizable smell, brought her to a stop.

Hands shaking, she paused the audiobook playing faster than most people could understand.

Unaware, Kallen and Euphie trudged on. The floorboard creaking beneath them. Allie's warm fingers ghosted over her skin.

Nunnally bit her lip, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"I hope Mr. Cameron likes the card. We should have brought some flowers to cheer the place up," Euphie said. "I can't believe he would move somewhere so dreary!"

It was all _her_ fault.

After Euphie's blunder, Nunnally had flown into action. Their plan had risks. Acceptable ones, she thought at the time. Some minor upheaval but all reversible if the worst should come to pass.

Then Euphie blabbed to Clovis. Ruined weeks of planning without a thought. Risked everything with her good intentions. And exposed a student film club to the whims of royalty.

Before her little stunt, they had been safely flying under the radar and safe from reprisal.

Nunnally had spent the last few weeks ignoring her dear half-sister as she desperately tried to run damage control. Clovis would feel slighted. Humiliated, at worst.

He had never taken well to such indignity. None of her family did.

She had cancelled her plans. Shut down the entire operation so the interview wouldn't see the light of day. Then moved Mr. Cameron for his safety. She wouldn't put it beyond her half-brother to send some thugs to teach a lesson.

The smell of blood was strong.

"He's not answering," Kallen called.

Mutely, she withdrew a hair pin and approached the door.

"Nunnally?" asked Allie, the only one to realize something wasn't right.

"You have the first aid kit in your bag?" Nunnally confirmed, as she wrapped her hands around the freezing door handle.

Allie's breaths were faster than normal. "Always."

"You can't pick the lock," Euphie protested as she found the keyhole. "Nunnally, that's illegal!"

"You're quite good at that," Kallen observed. "Seems like a useful skill."

Gingerly, she slid her pin further in, finding the familiar pins and nudging them into the right position.

"How can you say that? We can't invade his privacy. Maybe he's out shopping for groceries or-"

Nunnally opened the door and gagged.

Blood. So much blood.

The smell was everywhere. Assaulting her. Leaving her no room to escape.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched inside.

Blood.

Her mother lying on the steps.

Red. The only hazy color she could remember.

Blood.

Thunder roared in her ears and coupled with the overbearing smell, she had never felt more adrift. It was like when she woke up in a soft hospital bed, her legs screaming in agony, and not able to understand why everything was so dark.

"He needs medical aid," Nunnally managed to croak out.

Another door clicked open.

The scent of blood became even stronger. How could there be so much blood?

"I found him," Kallen whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nunnally rushed forward. Despite all her efforts, she had failed him. "Tell me, where he is hurt. Allie, we need bandages... Or Nathan."

Like before, someone blocked her way. Their hands wrapped around her arm, dragging her away. "Nunnally," Kallen said. "He's dead."

"No." Nunnally shook her head, ripping her arm free and stumbling forward to where blood drowned out every smell. This wasn't what death smelled like. That had been the graveyard. The corpses creaking and popping and the stench of rot curdling her stomach. "He's still alive. We need to help him. Just tell me what's there."

Allie grabbed her hand. "He's dead... I'm sorry."

No.

Yes.

Clovis did this.

She had embarrassed him with the little film she concocted.

"I can't believe he'd kill himself," Kallen whispered. "I know the screening didn't go as he hoped, but..."

The faucet was dripping. The one in the bathroom. With the twisty handles she had to strain to reach.

"I'll call an ambulance," Euphie said from afar. She hadn't even stepped into the room.

"No," Nunnally ordered. Her fingernails dug into her skin. Now was not the time to lash out. "We can't be the ones to find the body. Students shouldn't be over here."

She had brought him here, so he would be safe. But it hadn't been enough. She could've done more.

She would've done more had she truly thought that her half-brother would resort to this.

"We can't just leave," Euphie shrieked. "That's not right."

Nunnally ground her teeth together and inhaled through her nose. Again. And again.

Finally, her voice monotone, she said, "Clovis did this."

"That's ridiculous. Kallen said it's a suicide. He must have-"

"-She said it _looked_ like a suicide," Nunnally cut across before her half-sister would say something disparaging and she lost her temper. She needed a clear head. She had to figure out how to handle this. "The bathroom faucet is dripping. It's too high for him to turn, so he uses the one in the kitchen. Someone else was here, then did the deed and washed their hands before locking the door on the way out."

"What? If he was murdered, then we have to inform the Knight Police. They'll find the perpetrator."

"They won't bother with an investigation," Nunnally said dully as she walked back outside. "Make sure you wipe down the door handle, Kallen. We don't want your fingerprints showing up here."

"You're just going to do nothing?" Euphie snarled. "There's a dead man in there!"

"Keep your voice down. We don't want to draw attention." Nunnally locked the door and pulled out a cloth to wipe the handle clean. "And I never said I wouldn't do something, but we're going to have to be discreet. A man died..."

She straightened, rolling back her shoulders. Andrew Cameron had died for her cause because she had miscalculated. She refused to let his death be in vain.

"I guess I'm going to promote the interview after all," she murmured.

"I already did that." Euphie sniffed. "I don't know why no one could access it off campus. But I fixed it. People deserve to hear what he said. And if he was murdered, probably more so."

Euphie. Had. Done. What?

"When?" Nunnally growled. Of all the asinine things she could do.

"Yesterday. Realized it after the screening when I couldn't show it to anyone. It's gotten quite popular. Lots of people are thrilled to hear from him again. They'll be devastated he took his life. But I guess it's to be exp-"

"-Don't finish that statement." Nunnally's heart pounded against her ribs and her nails tore into her palm. The pain grounded her. "A man is dead because of you."

"I didn't do anything," Euphie protested.

"If you had kept your mouth shut like I told you to, the short film would've been far beneath Clovis's notice. Then you re-released the interview the night of the festival, further embarrassing him. He had helped fund this little project. And Mr. Cameron's words flew in the face of Britannian ideology and the short film proved his point. Of course he can act. He's just not supposed to."

Nunnally sighed, stuffing her hands in pocket. "Clovis wants to maintain the status quo. He needed to discredit Mr. Cameron. There were other options of course, but killing him was straightforward and easy."

But if Nunnally found proof, it would be Clovis's undoing. She was going to rake him over the coals. He hadn't sought another solution. Proved himself to be lacking any human dignity.

Mr. Cameron was sub-human after all. Barely worth a thought.

It hadn't escaped her notice how he would constantly bemoan her lack of sight. As if the world's greatest tragedy was that she couldn't admire his paintings and stroke his ego with half-hearted praise. But he didn't mind painting her. To him, she was a fragile painting to be locked away, carefully tended to, and admired from the distance.

She was going to tear his precious viceroyship out of his hands.

He thought her weak; she would prove him to be.

When she was done, his reputations would be in tatters. He would hear the same words of disgust as she did when people thought she wasn't listening.

He would be nothing.

"Clovis killed him, and I'm going to prove it," she vowed.

"That's a heavy accusation," Kallen cautioned with the same curious lilt that always followed Nunnally's unpatriotic statements.

"I only meant to help," Euphie whispered, her fingers brushing past her hand before Nunnally snatched it back. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"That doesn't change what happened."

"No one could've foreseen this!"

"I warned you, didn't I?" Nunnally's brow furrowed as she mapped out the surrounding area. "If you're not going to help me find justice for him, then go back to Ashford and do us all a favor and stay out of our way before you get someone else killed."

"I'll come. I'll prove to you it wasn't a murder. And if it was, I'll make sure the perpetrator is punished under the full extent of the law. Murder is irredeemable." By the end, Euphie's voice ceased wavering.

Nunnally ignored the declaration.

This was why she never shared the full story with Euphie and always spared the gory detail. Her world view was too stilted, always between one extreme.

Lying was unsavory. Stealing, wrong. Hurting someone, unjustified.

And the Empire a force of justice. Her family, above reproach. Their father, the only judge.

When these beliefs came into conflict, only one side could win. So the executioner was cruel for choosing his profession, while Cornelia was only doing her lawful duty because she was family. Euphie didn't like reconciling these contradictions, but she thought gentle rebukes would solve the tension. In the end, everyone simply agreed with her quietly, vowed to do better, and the next time, conveniently forgot to inform her.

Schneizel in particular had mastered the art. He would always comfort her, then inform her of some travesty of some enemy of his, and release her ire, ignoring Nunnally's disapproving frown.

If Euphie knew the full truth, Nunnally wasn't sure which side would win: her brother or Euphie's moral beliefs. So she too held her tongue and perpetuated Euphie's delusions.

"Brian?" Allie asked as they turned into the smoky streets.

"Who else?" Nunnally joked weakly.

"He only offers safe passage because of your brother," Allie whispered. "This... It's risky."

"I know. But that's why I have you, right? To be my eyes and shield my back."

They walked silently as Nunnally searched for something she could leverage. Her brother got her foot in the door, but she needed to continue on her own. Lelouch had his own concerns, and she would not add to his burden. She would grow her network of internet whispers until she finally had the power to strike a crippling blow.

She wasn't useless. Despite how much she despised the man who sired her, she was still a vi Britannia. And unlike Clovis, she was one of the few who could hold their own against Schneizel in chess. It was time for people to acknowledge that.

Allie tugged on her arm and a heavy truck rumbled past, splashing through a puddle.

"Thanks," Nunnally said and waited for her to indicate that it was safe to cross the street.

"A word?" Allie whispered, barely discernible over the din of traffic as they crossed the street. "I know you can take care of yourself, but I want you to let me take the lead."

"I can handle Brian," she said. Behind her, Euphie and Kallen began their own battle of hushed whispers over where they were going.

Allie groaned. "But at what cost? You're bringing your sister, an Imperial Princess, along. I've seen her in gym. She's utterly incapable of defending herself, and I'm protecting you, not her."

Nunnally bit her lip. A large population of Honorary Britannians lived on the edge of the concessions. Four Britannian school children would make enticing targets for someone looking to score their next meal.

"We'll be fine. Kallen knows how to fight as well. And I have a pocket knife. But we're not going to need that. We'll talk to Brian and be on our way."

"You're not thinking straight," Allie hissed. "Hell, I'm not either after seeing _that_ , but you're out for blood. Can you even keep your temper? You've been snapping at people left and right for the past few weeks."

"And what am I supposed to do then?" Nunnally spat. Now even her friend was doubting her.

"Hey." Allie pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Just play the part. I know it's pointless to try and talk you out of this. I don't even disagree. Mr. Cameron... But I can't bear to see you get hurt. If we're going to take on the most powerful man in the Area, then we'll need every advantage we can get. And when things heat up, nothing will stop Brian from selling us out."

Nunnally nodded shakily and her raging anger ebbed. While Euphie was coming along to prove Clovis's innocence and Kallen's motivations were unknown, Allie was actively supporting her out of friendship.

"Please, let me help," Allie begged. "Relying on others doesn't make you weak. Even without me... You'd still find a way to be amazing and anyone who doesn't see that is a fool."

Rubbing her eyes, she nodded and leaned into her friend's delicious warmth. Relinquishing control was terrifying. Others could relax and enjoy the moment, content in the knowledge that should trouble arise, they could deal with it. Nunnally wasn't afforded that luxury.

Forewarned was forearmed.

Every scrap of knowledge she acquired was filtered through someone else. Like Allie who took the time to read out loud books or describe images. Her classmates who often fudged the truth for their own amusement. And then there were her numerous siblings. Often, they lied outright, thinking her too stupid to taste the lie in the air.

The only one she didn't begrudge was Schneizel; he lied to everyone. She imagined he thought it was amusing to weave fact and fiction together until no one could tell left from right and was abandoned to his mercy. Given the time, he could convince someone the sky was green. Sometimes, she called him out on it as he weaved a particularly elaborate fiction, and he would fall into a contemplative silence.

Nunnally stopped tapping the cane against the ground ahead of her, instead relaxing into Allie and letting her lead the way unhindered. "I trust you."

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

The worst part about being in Australia was that everything progressed at glacial speeds. Lelouch had only a few pieces left to set the board, but they merely required biding his time. Unlike in the division, there was no pressing issue waging war on his meager time. He had more free time than he knew what to do with.

And he should be doing something. Letting himself waste away doing nothing was unacceptable.

In desperation, he even asked his mother to send over his personal collection of books he acquired over the years. Normally, they rested in the Aries Villa, and if Lelouch needed them, he would ask a servant to send him one.

Having them on the bookshelf in his office made him feel like he was moving into the embassy. That he actually belonged to this opulent life. That he wasn't returning to his men anytime soon.

Unfortunately, outside of writing letters, he couldn't act any faster. His plan relied on waiting to see how others would react.

Schneizel had noticed his idle time and occasionally brought him along as he engaged in his duties as the Prime Minister, or requisitioned his aid in tackling the copious paperwork that came with the office. Lelouch now knew more about fishing and its impact on their coast than he ever imagined.

The knowledge wasn't particularly useful.

Schneizel wasn't empowering him but trying to keep him busy, so he wouldn't interfere in his own affairs.

To avoid his brother's meddling, he was studying the chess board in the embassy's library, replaying a game he lost. It had been years since he had the luxury to devote time to the game.

In the corner of the room, Henry and Frederick went through hand to hand drills. Or rather, Henry was beating Frederick up. The floor shook as they threw each other to the ground, and Lelouch let the familiar background noise fade.

Silence was more jarring. It usually meant something had gone wrong, and no one wanted to tell him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as an unspeakable finished his patrol. Their presence had been steadily increasing over the past few weeks, bolstering the embassy's traditional security. Perhaps because of the upcoming festivities.

Lelouch glanced at Henry, marvelling at the difference between him and the guard. They were both unspeakables, yet Henry felt as if he was brimming with life. The other, an empty shell.

When he was younger, Lelouch hadn't thought much of it. Guards and servants existed beneath his notice. The unspeakables didn't even register.

Now, he was curious. They weren't normal. People didn't act like them.

Henry was part of the same order, suffering from personality changes whenever he returned from a meeting with the Emperor.

Tearing his eyes away, he focused back on the board.

Ah, there was his mistake.

He should have moved his pawn forward to prevent Nunnally from having access to the long diagonals and controlling the board. He pushed the piece forward and pondered the board. His sister had truly mastered the game.

"How can you focus with their infernal racket?" Guinevere asked, her nose high as she stepped into the library. "Go change into something more decent. It's time to rectify the lapse in your education, before you can embarrass our family further."

Lelouch looked down at his neatly pressed black shirt, branded with Britannia's sigil. "These are my nice clothes."

Guinevere brushed her hand across her temple. "They're black. You are not in mourning. Surely you have something brighter."

A brown jacket and a casual grey shirt for when he snuck outside. Not that they would meet her exacting standards.

"Prince Schneizel already claimed the title of the White Prince. I merely seek to distinguish myself," he said instead.

"Of course you do." Guinevere scowled at Frederick and Henry waiting patiently. "Your guards look like common thugs. I lack the time to rectify this right now, but we will find a solution. This travesty shall not last any longer. At least wear a cape. Come now."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow and gestured at the chessboard. "I'm busy."

"And I outrank you." Huffing, she grabbed his shoulder and pushed him out of the room. "You will be joining me for afternoon tea, and we will discuss appropriate options for you. Our family has no use for leeches. Since the Empire is stable now, Father may be content to allow his younger children more time to relax. You are not afforded that luxury, having no proper allies or lineage to call on."

"You almost sound worried," Lelouch said, massaging his shoulders.

"Of course not. Your poor performance reflects badly on not just yourself but our entire family. I have protected the sanctity of our family, since I was fourteen. You make up a ridiculous excuse about selling furniture. Honestly, if you're going to lie, at least put the effort in."

That was the point. An obvious lie with scant few supporting details made people feel accomplished when they discover the deception. Content at discovering one of his secrets, they were less likely to dig further. He had even prepared an additional cover story should someone investigate further. They would come to the conclusion that Lelouch was doing the Royal Family's accounting.

If the E.U. discovered he was Zero... there would be trouble. Art had already discovered three French assassins in the past year, who were supposed to find Zero and eliminate him at any cost.

Guinevere led him into her tea parlor, picked up a fan, and sat down, carefully folding the napkin and spreading it across her lap. Instead of the customary seat directly across from her, she gestured to the neighboring seat left from her.

Resigned, Lelouch sat down. Her fan snapped out, striking him on the arm.

"Again. You must keep your back straight. Never lean forward."

Closing his eyes, Lelouch stood and repeated the motion. Again, she was displeased, her fan biting into his skin. So he repeated the motion again.

And again.

Finally, satisfied, she allowed him to sit. But then, he apparently folded his napkin too quickly.

A royal should never be rushed.

It was just one miniscule mistake after another.

The steaming cup of tea and tray of scones brought back too many bad memories.

His hand trembled as he broke apart the scone. The fan struck him again.

"You are absolutely hopeless. A royal's hand should always be steady and certain. There is no room for uncertainty in leading an Empire."

Perhaps if she stopped reprimanding him with the damn fan, Lelouch would actually be able to focus. Her controlling presence trapped him in his chair. Standing by the wall, Frederick and Henry watched him, frowning.

Lelouch lifted the teacup, pretending to take a sip. "Perhaps the Empire would benefit more from a swift and decisive hand instead of wasting time on frivolities."

"Yet I am the one who Father trusts to control the court and keep him abreast of developments. Patience is a virtue." Guinevere didn't deign to look at him as the servants cleared the low table and reset it. "Now, I invited some guests to discuss business. No. You are not dismissed. You will drink your tea, eat your scone, and listen. Together, we may perhaps find a way for you to be of service to the Empire."

The knife rested on the table, glistening ever so temptingly.

The servant signaled at the door, and Guinevere bid him to rise. They stood patiently as the door opened and Lord Greenford, Lord Oberstein, and a young man stepped inside, dropping into a deep and proper bow. Lelouch offered a formal bow, not as deep, but still, excessively polite.

Lord Greenford kept his nose clean, but he thought similarly to Guinevere. Breeding mattered the most.

As for Lord Oberstein...

His eyes were too sharp, and his smile always had a predatory edge to it. At parties, he would frequently seek out Lelouch and make idle small talk. When he departed, Lelouch was left off kilter and wondering what insights he had drawn. Lord Oberstein definitely didn't believe his flimsy excuse, and he had his hands in too many pies to not be a threat. Undoubtedly, he was also dealing under the table.

If only Lelouch could find some proof.

"Bedivere," Guinevere greeted with genuine fondness as the younger man kissed her outstretched hand. He lingered for a moment longer than was proper. "The ladies must be flocking to your side."

"You are the only crown jewel of my heart," Bedivere promised, stepping closer into her personal space.

Lelouch averted his eyes. Across from him, Lord Oberstein's lips quirked as their gaze met.

Finally, Guinevere sat down. At a pointed look from her, Lelouch picked up the tea strainer and went through the motions of serving everyone tea according to their preferences. Usually, pouring the tea was reserved for the host or a guest of honor. Given that Guinevere hadn't even introduced him, she meant it as a reminder that he was beneath her.

Relieved that their guest's presence prevented Guinevere from openly reprimanding him, he nibbled on one of the small sandwiches, studiously avoiding the scones and leaving his tea untouched. Lord Greenford and his nephew discussed the latest fashion trends and the upcoming state banquet to honor the Australians and celebrate Cornelia's victory in Africa.

Representatives from around the world would witness the formal surrender of United East Africa. Afterwards, Schneizel would whisper poisoned promises of peace, as he orchestrated the conditions to goad the next country to attack.

Retaliating against an unjustified attack was better optics than outright invasions.

"The future is looking bright. Wouldn't you agree, Your Highness?" Lord Oberstein remarked, drawing Lelouch into the conversation for the first time.

"Yes, our efforts in eradicating rubella and measles have been quite successful," Lelouch said, deliberately misunderstanding. He couldn't condone their continuous expansion.

"Conquest, Lelouch," Guinevere tutted. "Some minor diseases among the filth hardly concerns us. Please pardon him, my friends. Marianne has been remiss in his education."

"It can't help but be expected," Lord Greenford agreed. "She doesn't have the necessary upbringing to do his education justice."

Lelouch smiled politely. The difference in his mother's reception between commoners and upper nobles never failed to startle him. To the commoners, she was proof that merit mattered. To the nobility, a threat to their supposed superiority of their blood.

"His presence here is for his education then. The Emperor cannot expect him to actually help in the negotiations," Bedivere said as he reached across the table to grasp her hand. "Your heart truly is brimming with kindness."

Filling out identical copies of forms because the copier broke (again) was less painful than watching this.

Lord Oberstein cleared his throat. "Where do you see yourself in twenty years, Your Highness? Royalty can't hide from the press forever, after all."

"A deserted island," Lelouch said. His father was old after all. And if Odysseus failed to hold onto the throne, the best Lelouch could hope for was exile. "I'm saving to buy a few. I wouldn't want my new home accidentally destroyed by a passing hurricane."

"You claim to have zero ambition?" Lord Oberstein stared dubiously. "Nothing strikes your fancy? Princess Guinevere will be an essential part of the new regime."

Doubtful. She wasn't exactly subtle about her ambitions to become the next Empress. She merely had the empty power of the nobility behind her.

Schneizel had a decade worth of connections from being Prime Minister and real experience governing. His influence would only continue to grow as the years passed.

Even Cornelia was a better contender. The army would follow her lead.

"I labor under no delusions. I'm seventeenth in line for the throne due to the accident known as timing," Lelouch said. "The race to the crown already began by the time I was born."

Guinevere sniffed. "Maybe if you exerted a smidgeon of effort, there will be room for you in the new regime as long as you remember your place."

Despite her condescending tone, her offer seemed genuine. She was honestly trying to court him to her side. Unfortunately for her, he didn't ally with people doomed to fail.

"I may despise Marianne, but not anyone can claim to have the ambition to sleep their way through the ranks and steal the title of Empress," she continued.

"Your proposal flatters me, but I must decline. I cannot risk the health of my line," Lelouch said dryly. He took great joy in watching the muscles in her neck tense as she realized his implications. Maybe next time she wouldn't drag him into her social engagements to mock him.

Her glare was a sight to behold.

Lord Oberstein served himself a piece of cake. "I think we would be remiss to ignore the plights of the commoner. Empress Marianne and, in the future, Prince Lelouch, aren't nothing. They have made no moves against the nobility to my knowledge, yet they are feared. Why? Because even you, Arthur, unconsciously fear the riff-raff. They're an essential element in the production pipeline. Remember, it's not a zero-sum game."

Lelouch gritted his teeth. Was Lord Oberstein trying to determine if he was Zero? As always, his face betrayed nothing.

"The commoners are greedy liars," Bedivere chimed in. "I eagerly anticipate the automations of our factories. Then we no longer have to deal with their incessant complaints. They should be content with the scraps we deign to feed them."

"If they seek to improve their standing, they should join the military," Lord Greenford added. "We offer knighthood to excellent pilots and skilled individuals for a reason. Only through fighting can they prove their blood is stronger than the average man's. Naturally, they should take care to not overextend their welcome. A lowly knight should never overreach their welcome. Marrying a viscount is fine, but thinking they can gain the title of earl? Utterly foolish."

Lelouch grimaced. Their rampant superiority complex did nothing to help Britannia, only sowing more dissension. If the nobility could be bothered to extend their vaunted manners to the commoners, then Zero would hardly be needed. Admittedly, their complex made it so much easier to sway their servants to spill their secrets.

"You disagree?" Bedivere asked sharply.

"In the past few decades, changes to the institution of knighthood has undermined its founding principle," Lelouch said carefully. He couldn't afford to make outright enemies of them. They would feel threatened by his beliefs. "Take for example the Knight of Honor-the ultimate expression of loyalty. Before my mother, they were awarded their liege's subsidiary title.

"Through this process, Britannia revitalized itself through fresh blood. Yet, politics denied my mother this honor. And this trend continues throughout the Empire: the avenues to acquire a noble title are being systematically shut down. Without hope, the commoners become restless and inclined to listen to the poisoned promises of equality from the French."

Lord Oberstein smirked. "The young prince is right, Arthur. Additionally, we changed the rules for Duels of Honor. In doing so, the lower nobility has gotten complacent, not worrying about having to defend their title. As we all know, complacency breeds weakness. Britain fell to Napoleon because our nobles were indecisive."

"And whose fault is it that knightmares are allowed in Honor Duels?" Lord Greenford sniffed. "The sword requires years of training to master. A mere Number can pilot a knightmare after a few weeks. Traditions exist to safeguard against dangerous elements. But when the threat changes, they must evolve, lest our very fabric of society is torn apart."

"A mind like Lord Ashford's is not one I'm willing to lose." Lord Oberstein deposited some cream on his plate. "The consequences of saving him were unfortunate. Yet without him, we would be unable to maintain our lead in knightmare development over our enemies. Our superiority is due to Britannia's unwavering commitment to innovation. Yet the French elevate more great minds, because they don't restrict their search."

For someone close to the Purists, Lord Oberstein's philosophy seemed to run counter to theirs. While not outright stating it, he was suggesting a system of merit. Most nobles would cry foul before even considering it. The risk to their personal power was too great.

Lord Ashford was an anomaly, his passion for research overriding normal concerns about the vitality of his line. If he didn't require crucial security clearance, he would happily abandon his titles and the associated responsibilities to devote more time to research.

Yet Lord Oberstein was not that kind of man. By all accounts, he was profit driven. The stringent class rules prevented his wealth from being diluted among the commoners.

Perhaps he was sincere about it being an issue of national security.

Lelouch wasn't convinced.

"It's always business with you," Lord Greenford grumbled. "You would sell your first-borne for profit. Innovation cannot come at the cost of stability."

Their conversation drifted back into less contentious issues and Lelouch allowed himself to fade into the background. He longed to make leading statements and sow the seeds of dissension. They would never be allies-a fundamental difference of belief keeping them apart. To them, his mother had committed the greatest sin by reaching past her station.

It was one thing for a commoner family like Roy's with a long history and significant capital to rise to nobility. Quite another for his mother, whose family had been well off, but lost everything to the Emblem of Blood.

Lord Oberstein though...

Out of the corner of his eye, Lelouch studied him. A seasoned politician, his face revealed nothing. Anything he divulged was intentional, leaving Lelouch with no way to discern his true beliefs.

When their eyes met, Lord Oberstein smirked. As if he were completely aware of Lelouch's interest and his frustrations.

"Prince Lelouch, a letter arrived for you," a servant whispered, waiting on his left.

"Pardon me," Lelouch said to the table. With a polite nod, Lelouch accepted the letter, brushing past the servant's pocket and depositing a small bribe. He needed more ears in Guinevere's entourage.

Guinevere scowled. "Lelouch, that can wait."

The paper was heavy and expensive: important. Hand delivered to him: urgent.

"I do have a job, Guinevere. Selling furniture requires delicate timing," he said dryly, covering his father's personal seal at the bottom.

His father had tentatively approved his plan and the initial draft of his treaty. He had an appointment to discuss the finer details over the phone. In return, Zero would attend the upcoming regional strategy meeting to discuss the ramifications of his plans and how to tackle the subjugation of the new Area Fifteen.

His comforting anonymity was slipping away. While the top brass would keep his identity a secret, the move showed his father tired of Lelouch playing the masked commander.

He frowned as he read further. Cornelia would be in attendance.

That was going to be so much fun.

"Right," Guinevere drawled, her voice dripping with skepticism. "I'm sure it couldn't wait for us to finish tea."

Lelouch finished the letter, folded it neatly, and passed it to Henry. Smiling, he focused on his sister. "But then you wouldn't have heard the happy news until tomorrow. My mother has decided to attend the banquet after all."

Seeing Guinevere's brief expression of horror, almost made afternoon tea worth it. Almost.

While she could disparage Lelouch all she wanted, his mother was beyond her reach. She had their father's favor; Guinevere had lost his.

"She said she didn't have the time." Guinevere glared as if he was accountable for her actions.

"The schedules of the Knights of the Round are erratic. Especially for one of her caliber." Lelouch smirked. "Diplomatic events are naturally important, but would you begrudge her for prioritizing Britannia's immediate security?"

Truthfully, he would have preferred for her to stay away. Her presence would irritate General Smilas, and Lelouch needed him to be overconfident, not beset by paranoia. Although his presence was perhaps why his mother had changed her mind.

Like Cornelia, she disliked frivolous social functions and only attended them at his father's behest. Playing with an old enemy was enticing enough for her to come voluntarily.

"I need to redo the entire seating plan. Bedivere, I would greatly appreciate your assistance," Guinevere said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Empress Marianne will take Schneizel's place next to the Australian King. But since the Emperor won't be attending for security's sake, the left seat is now empty and..."

A servant brought a whiteboard, diligently marking down everyone's position.

Lelouch listened with rapt attention as she went through the guest list and possible arrangements. She was a master of her craft, casually recalling the personal likes and dislikes of their guests and arranging people to ensure an enjoyable experience... Or with the E.U, a series of minor, seemingly accidental, insults. Everyone was an expertly wielded piece on her board.

"Lelouch," she said, after studying the board intently, "you will bring a date."

"I don't have one," he said. "It wasn't a problem before."

"Everyone has a date. Before, I had Lady Vanessa fulfilling that role for you. Unfortunately, she accidentally insulted Empress Tianzi two years ago and Lord Xingke will now be seated next to you."

"I doubt Shneizel has a date. Or Adjutant Malcal." Surely, there was another solution. This was merely her revenge.

"He's the Prime Minister and Malcal's fiancé is flying in from Paris. He's some cousin to the main Malcal branch." She glanced at the board again and sighed. "I forgot he's a sexist pig. If I switch them..."

Lelouch frowned. During his probing, Leila hadn't mentioned any engagement. Nor did she wear a ring. Was their relationship mutual? Or a pure business transaction? The latter offered an enticing opportunity.

He ignored the slight twinge of guilt. She had begun the game, knowing what it meant to tangle with royalty.

This was just retribution. He was even playing according to her rules.

His elder siblings would've destroyed her completely. She still had a chance to turn back,-she wouldn't-and if she played her cards wisely, she could recover and forge a new future for herself.

In the end, his father approved, merely named a price which was technically part of his duties as Zero. He would be pleased if Lelouch pulled it off successfully. And that was all that mattered.

The Emperor's eyes would find no need to stray from Lelouch to his sister. But to be safe, Lelouch would go the extra mile. Satisfactory was no longer enough.

"What of Miss Sumeragi?" Lord Oberstein asked. "Her presence would help assuage the worries of the Chinese."

A banquet sitting next to Kaguya?

Lelouch shuddered. "No."

"You two appear on good terms... her constant marriage proposals aside," Lord Oberstein pressed.

"Her company is entertaining, provided one has an exit strategy. Dinner makes escapes difficult," Lelouch said.

"Invite her," Guinevere ordered. "Pleasing the Chinese is more important than your childish games at this juncture. Now where do I put Schneizel?"

His mother was going to be insufferable. Where her sudden interest in his non-existent love life came from, he had no idea. At least Kaguya would be delighted. The networking opportunities were great... He could probably trade the invitation for a favor. Like asking her to run a genetic test discreetly.

A backup plan was always valuable.

Lord Greenford leaned forward examining the seating chart. "I pity whoever is seated next to him."

"Put him next to General Smilas." Lelouch smirked. "They like each other."

"What part of constant insults lets you draw that conclusion?" Guinevere asked. "But it would resolve the seating chart neatly. And remind my brother not to underestimate my power."

"Seeing anyone hold their ground against Schneizel is a rare sight. General Smilas does more. He retaliates. Why wouldn't Schneizel be intrigued?"

Across the table, Lord Oberstein's lip twitched, in stark contrast to his companions' serious, contemplative expressions.

The servants around them were slightly too still, eager as always, to spread rumors about the royals. Lelouch wouldn't even need to bribe them. Dirt on Schneizel was always so enticing, a consequence of his almost pristine reputation.

"Well, he does seem distracted of late," Guinevere murmured.

Schneizel's distraction was more likely due to his efforts in investigating Lelouch, but he had no interest in enlightening her. He edged her on, "And everyone knows about Kanon..."

"Indeed..." An ugly scowl crossed Bedievere's face. "The delay in negotiations is most scandalous. His Highness has always been most prompt and he invited Guinevere to shirk the blame. There must be a reason."

Lord Oberstein took another sip of tea.

Guinevere hummed. "He has been tired of late. I wonder..." She turned to her friends. "Not a word." Naturally, that meant the entire embassy would know by the end of the day. "While I rejoice that he is proving himself human, Smilas is French. Whatever infatuation there may be, it will most certainly fade away soon. People rarely interest Schneizel for long."

Briefly, Lelouch wondered if his brother would kill him for this. Schneizel should be able to handle a mere rumor based on hearsay. Guinevere had done most of the work by voicing her observations. He should blame her. The two quarreling would give Lelouch some much needed space.

"Of course," Lord Greenford promised. "But speaking of the guest list, did you invite Zero? Many of us are curious to meet him. Surely, you must have an inkling of who he is."

"I'm unaware of Zero's true identity. I tried to invite him, but Father refused to pass on the invitation. Claims that Zero is busy. Same answer as always." Guinevere shook her head. "His attendance would have been helpful. The other nations are quite wary of him."

"Probably for the best," Lelouch said, desperate to guide the conversation elsewhere. "Anymore Britannians, and the Australians will be fearing an occupation."

A chuckle passed through the group.

Lord Oberstein stared at him intently. "Zero is quite a mystery. Who do you believe he is, Prince Lelouch?"

"A mere fiction," Lelouch answered, smiling to hide his inner turmoil. "Anyone can be an unnamed commander. The Emperor simply contributes any noteworthy victories to a symbol. Thus, Zero becomes renown, and our enemies spend time hunting a ghost as they prepare themselves for someone who doesn't exist."

Lord Oberstein raised an eyebrow. "An interesting theory."

"Oh, he is real," Bedievere said. "My fellow officers discuss him often. I would love to get my hands on an actual report of his. Major General Vandergeld has great respect for the man. Impressing him is almost impossible."

"Cornelia called it a bunch of hogwash. Apparently, he fights like a coward," Guinevere added.

"Inspired," Bedievere said. "General Cornelia employs brute force to devastating effect. Zero is like.. a scalpel. He must be from some great family."

Lelouch's eye twitched. His bloodline had nothing to do with it. He had found intelligent men within his division to promote. While having to defend every Number promotion among the upper ranks to his father was annoying, they were qualified, and he trusted them to execute his orders. Nobles merely benefited from a superior education.

Lord Greenford stroked his chin. "What of Ant-"

"-I checked when the news of his victory over the Count first broke," Guinevere said, shaking her head. "Father is still displeased with him."

Confused, Lelouch frowned. Staying apart from his family meant he wasn't caught up on the latest gossip. If there was someone who they thought could do Zero's job, then Lelouch's position wasn't as secure as he thought.

His father could replace him.

"If not him, then Zero must be a commoner," Lord Greenford said. "Otherwise, the Emperor would parade him around as proof of Britannian superiority. Although by now, his service should have granted him some minor title."

"I'll see if any titles were recently claimed," Guinevere promised. "Given that Father originally made Marianne his Knight of Honor, I doubt he cares. Zero could be a foreigner."

Lord Oberstein picked a small cake from the platter. "I think Zero is young."

"Ridiculous," Lelouch interjected. "Why would the Emperor put his trust in some unproven commander?"

Honestly, that question plagued Lelouch. He may have defeated the Count, but his father hadn't needed to promote him. A more logical plan would've been to put him in an advisory role to the division commander so he could learn the ropes. There was a reason nobles first attended the military academies.

"Early thirties perhaps," Lord Greenford mused. "It would still be quite impressive. Cornelia though made General at- What was it? Twenty-four?"

Social status was much more important than skill. Sons of earls and margraves bloated the top ranks. Occasionally, a minor noble would climb the ranks and be granted additional titles for their service to the Empire. While competent, their climb to power always took longer.

Fortunately, the conversation drifted onto much safer ground as Guinevere interrogated Bedievere on his opinions regarding certain fashion trends. Lelouch surreptitiously glanced at Lord Oberstein throughout the conversation, trying to gauge what the man knew.

Lelouch couldn't afford mistakes.

* * *

**Knights of the Round Training Facility, Area Three**

Marianne flipped through intelligence reports on Reuben while keeping an eye on the knights and their pathetic attempt to complete the training regime. Ernst was the only one dodging the obstacles with any medicorum of grace. In contrast, Krushevsky crashed into more poles than she avoided.

Ridiculous. They were supposed to be the best of the best.

Bradley rolled up to the starting line and the coms crackled as he shouted in glee. She shook her head tiredly at his antics. He was an excellent pilot, but his tendency to disregard orders and charge ahead kept him ranked at the bottom. Still, he failed to beat Ernst's score and his incoherent screaming echoed through the open field.

Focusing on the file again, Marianne absently reached for a cookie. She never thought she would go as far to spy on Reuben, but his behavior had become increasingly suspicious. He had shut out all but essential personnel from his high security labs, including the unspeakable assigned to him.

She was half-tempted to drop in unexpectedly, but knew Reuben would find an excuse to deny her access.

A few years ago, having to schedule an official visit to see him was unimaginable.

All of this effort for his new test pilot.

Seeing Bradley harass Ernst, Marianne barked, "Lucy, get your ass back in line! Behave, or you will take Bismarck's spot as my personal sparring partner."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Thank you, Lady Marianne," Ernst said. "Do you have any feedback for me?"

"You're relying on your specs too much. Put the factsphere on a two second delay. Learn to anticipate moves."

"Understood, sir," she said.

Marianne hummed in satisfaction as the next round continued much more smoothly. Her absence from spying on the Geass order had caused their training to lag. Bismarck was an excellent pilot, but teaching was not his strong suit. He didn't understand the limits of each knightmare frame and where specs ended and skill began.

Reuben could always tell the difference.

His lack of skill failed to stop his mind from picking apart a knightmare's movement to discern structural weakness and latency issues between the pilot and the machine. She had driven him insane in the beginning, constantly pushing her knightmare to its limits. Even now, she had a near perfect sync rate despite piloting a prototype.

Frowning, she pulled out the file on his new pilot: Kallen Stadtfeld.

Her simulator scores during the Academy's test, while impressive for her age, were nothing to scoff at. She was undoubtedly an ace, but Reuben had never felt the need to protect them before. Was it because she was half-Eleven?

Did Reuben really believe she would hurt her because of her blood?

Marianne winced, recalling her hunt for the Eleven boy.

Yes, he had a reason to be wary. In hindsight, she had overreacted. Lelouch's silent treatment had driven that point home well enough. She still despised the boy for turning her son against her.

Without him, Lelouch would never have been so stubborn and remained safe... Or an assassin would've killed him.

Fortunately, the attempts on his life had dwindled in recent years. If they hadn't, Marianne would've protested Charles pushing Lelouch into the spotlight.

Her son's safety was her absolute priority. Admittedly, he didn't make it easy with his tendency to accidentally stumble into dangerous situations.

She could only hope Nunnally wouldn't take after her brother in that regard.

Pondering what-ifs was an exercise in agony. They only drove home her failure.

Marianne pursed her lips. Reuben fearing her reaction didn't sit quite right. He would've taken the opportunity to lecture her or ask her to self-reflect.

Perhaps it was the girl's age? He detested the military recruiting in his school almost as much as the propaganda drivel of a history textbook Schneizel forced on him.

She had heard plenty of complaints from Nunnally over the years. Some of which forced her to confirm her daughter wasn't playing an elaborate prank on her.

"I have Statdfeld's simulator recording," Bismarck interrupted, passing a tablet to her. "She froze at the end, prematurely ending the simulation."

And her score had still been so high?

Reclining, Marianne watched the recording and the technical readouts on the right. The girl's response rate was unnaturally high, and the calculated sync-rate occasionally jumped into the high eighties.

While impressive, it wasn't what caught her eye.

No. It was how the girl ruthlessly tore into her opponents. Pure instinct drove her as she engaged in close range combat.

The Horus was certainly an appropriate knightmare for her, with its smaller frame that allowed the pilot to get up-close and personal.

Then... the girl froze.

The only reason Marianne could discern was that the timer had changed its color. Why that ended the girl's rampage, she didn't know.

"She's good," Marianne said. "No wonder Reuben wants to guard her. He says I have a habit of scaring off his test pilots."

"You do," Bismarck said, looking through the recording again. "Her style is similar to yours. Do you think she has potential?"

"I won't know without seeing her spar in the field. The simulators won't reveal the true extent of her skills."

Charles's warm hand settled on her shoulder as he stopped besides her. "Found someone interesting?"

"A fresh ace and probably the reason Reuben is being so cagey lately. He doesn't want me to scare her or something." Nodding at the training field, she continued, "Their training is going well. They were building bad habits by depending on their superior knightmare specs."

"You set them straight?"

"Of course, dear. None of them dare to slack off under my watch." She smirked. "They're being rather competitive in preparation of the ranks shifting when you appoint a new Knight of the Round."

"How was the Weinberg boy? I heard he destroyed Bradley's lance."

Marianne chuckled. "Bradley was causing too much trouble, so Fadiman and Weinberg engineered a little sparring accident which would require us to return. An audacious plan. Weinberg needs more varied experience. He's too used to fighting multiple weaker opponents instead of a single unit with comparable skill. I'm looking forward to sparring with him again. He has a good attitude, even in defeat."

"If you want to spar with him again, he must be good." Charles took a seat beside her. "Fadiman? Lelouch's second, right? How was he?"

"I gave you my report," Marianne grumbled.

"Lost in a sea of paperwork." Charles waved his hand. "I want your assessment. My agent is nowhere near as objective as he should be."

Of course he wasn't.

Henry was their friend, which clouded his judgement. Lelouch regularly shook his loyalty enough that he _forgot_ to report minor infractions. Charles found the constant tug and pull on Henry's loyalty infuriating.

Henry's reports were especially sparse on Lelouch's friends. Probably because he knew they would be judged more harshly than Lelouch. Fadiman was frequently noted for being obstinate, but she hadn't thought much of him until her visit.

"If Lelouch doesn't knight Fadiman, I will. He won't reach his full potential as a simple commoner, and I'm not going to let his talent go to waste," she said. "I really didn't expect him to retaliate against Bradley."

Unimpressed, Charles said, "An attack on the Knights of the Round is an attack on my person.".

Marianne snorted. "He has a spine buried beneath his instinctive subservience. If you wanted a mindless drone, you would use your Geass. Besides, he made sure to arrange the incident as to have plausible deniability. Lelouch taught him well."

Out of all her son's friends, he was the only one Henry noted for challenging Lelouch's ideas. Henry's disapproval saturated the reports. If it was up to him, they would all follow Lelouch's orders without question, unless his safety was in jeopardy.

Reigning in her son was near impossible, but Fadiman could. Yet, he seemed entirely oblivious to the impressive influence he wielded over Lelouch.

"His character?" Charles asked, accepting a cup of tea from a passing servant.

"He's from a proper Britannian family which has served the Empire for decades. He's almost everything you would expect. More loyal to his comrades than his family though, which is unusual. He also respects the Numbers, but I suspect that comes more from his loyalty to Lelouch." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "He lied to me again."

"Again?" Charles growled.

Marianne rolled her eyes. "More of a misdirection. The first time was with the Count, and he was trying to protect Lelouch from defection charges. This time, he merely attempted to shoulder the blame for some of Lelouch's action."

"If it was anyone but your-" Charles sighed at her glare. "-our son, that would disqualify him from knighthood. His loyalty should first be to the Empire, not some random commander."

"But Lelouch isn't some random commander, dear." She leaned over and snatched the pastry out of his hand. "Remember the doctor's orders."

"Marianne," he hissed.

Unabashed, she grinned. "Try some fruit instead."

Charles scowled, but ate a strawberry. "The point still stands. Fadiman doesn't know the truth, so his loyalty should first be to the Empire. Anything less is treasonous."

"The entire division's loyalty belongs to Lelouch." Marianne crossed her arms. "Fadiman is more loyal to the Empire than the rest of them."

"If Lelouch had aspirations for the throne, I would be worried about a possible coup," he grumbled.

Defensively, she said, "You don't worry about Cornelia. Her troops are quite loyal, and she's not lacking in ambition. She'll probably fall behind Schneizel, but if he were to die, she would make an earnest attempt herself."

Her son had done nothing to call his loyalty into question. He had stood against the Count despite everything. His unconventional methods, while often running counter to Britannian ideals, served the Empire in the long run.

"Cornelia isn't a politician," Charles said. "She's always been forthright and unrelenting in her beliefs. Making compromises is not in her nature which makes her an excellent general, but a terrible ruler. Lelouch has been running around making deals since he was fourteen. In two months, he has done more to improve our foreign relationships than Schneizel has in three years. Admittedly, mostly due to a lack of effort on Schneizel's part."

Marianne leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Charles. He's supposed to be taking it easy."

"The last time you recruited Reuben into ensuring he would take a proper vacation, Lelouch ended up working as a line cook." Charles pinched his nose. "Not to mention his proclivity to find trouble. At least in Australia, the chances of him involving himself with the mafia is fairly low. Your son-"

Marianne cleared her throat. At his glare, she grinned angelically.

"He gets it from you. None of my other children have ever caused such a headache."

"I remember a fair amount of ranting about Schneizel," Marianne teased. "And about Odysseus... And remember when they recruited Cornelia's help?"

His face soured.

Infiltrating the Geass order and observing the various human experiments sickened her.

But watching Charles get completely flustered now that he actually had to pay attention to one of his children? That was endlessly amusing.

"Nevertheless," he said, "Lelouch is more likely to stay out of trouble if kept busy. Guinevere and Schneizel have taken upon themselves to address the gaps in his education. His presence also confounds the E.U. delegates. The E.U. President apparently had a cabinet meeting discussing the possibility of supplanting his loyalty. Unfortunately, General Smilas's report shut that down. He is terribly wary of you, Marianne."

His spies had been busy. Normally, they wouldn't risk their cover sending such inconsequential information, which meant Charles requested it. He was more invested in her son's well being than he dared to admit.

She smirked. "For good reason. We have a reputation after all."

"The Breisgau girl missed the memo. She's basically putty in Lelouch's hands."

"She's young." Marianne shrugged.

"She's the same age as Lelouch," Charles remarked. "He knows to mask his emotions."

"If he was older, he would leverage her infatuation."

At first, she thought his hesitation was because of his own feelings. After numerous conversations, she concluded Lelouch didn't suffer from such weakness. No. It was worse. He was completely unaware of Breisgau's feelings. And despite Marianne's best efforts, she had failed to clue him in.

"Either he is playing me for a fool, or he is terribly dense," she said.

"You can interrogate him at the banquet in person. Do remind him to refrain from vulgar jokes when people are annoying him."

Marianne snorted, remembering the incident when the Sumeragi girl had finally pushed him too far with her teasing. Lelouch retaliated by describing explicit acts in excruciating detail as everyone nearby looked on in horror.

At Charles's terribly aggrieved look, she had burst into laughter, effectively distracting the court, while he went to reprimand his errant son.

Really, what had he expected allowing Lelouch to stay in the army? Walls were a luxury there.

"I'm sure he's learned his lesson," she said. "Not getting to spend time with his sister because you ordered him to help with accounting was a sufficient punishment."

"And then he turned around and used it for his own benefit." Charles shook his head. "Schneizel said something strange. Did Lelouch ever ask for his stipend to be increased?"

Suddenly, her son's frequent gambling endeavors made a lot more sense.

"Charles..." Marianne sighed. "Unless absolutely necessary, he isn't going to ask you for anything. It's a matter of pride."

He fell silent, observing the knightmares going through increasingly complicated maneuvers. "Well, if I suddenly increase it, Schneizel will twist it around to make Lelouch owe him a favor. Does he even need it? He is doing well enough on his own."

Marianne leaned over, grabbing his hand. "Don't be stingy, dear."

His eyes narrowed. "If I don't fix this, I'm going to regret this, am I not?"

Grinning, she pulled away. "There's a wonderful new French television series I'd love to watch. The soundtrack is exceptionally catchy."

"Don't be petty."

"You started it." She thrust out her chin. "I'm merely winning."

Leaning forward, he caught her hands and whispered into her ear, "Are you sure?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- Comparing a map of what Britannia's borders are at the moment (slightly behind canon due to the invasion of Japan being delayed by a year) with important natural resources and shipping routes, sort of paints a bleak picture for the E.U. and Chinese Federation. Britannia controls a lot of important stuff and can exert a lot of pressure over the seas.
> 
> \- The Knights of the Round in R2 were sort of a let down. Yes, Suzaku and Kallen are beasts with overpowered knightmares, but the Rounds are supposed to be the best of the nation. It would have been much more satisfying for them to be on more equal ground where strategy and experience actually played a role. Because of this, Marianne is whipping them back into shape.
> 
> \- When the knights bow in the anime, they cross their chest with their left hand and put the right one behind them. Historically, a lot of European formalities are based on the right hand being visible and not having a weapon. The right hand behind the back makes it look they're all going to assassinate their liege. Ironically, Akito actually has Suzaku use a proper bow. I haven't been able to track down clips from the recap movie to see if that's true there as well.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> Somewhat early update? Somebody asked me to, and I felt generous.
> 
> Lelouch's scene was a lot of fun for me personally. Lots of fun little details I appreciate. Like how afternoon tea works. I love writing politics, but I'm also aware this scene may have been a little dry? I might be slightly too proud about how the dialogue came out.
> 
> Did anyone have a favorite line?
> 
> Next update won't be until after Christmas unfortunately. Therefore, I hope everyone enjoys the holidays! (I can't believe 2020 is almost over. What a year.)
> 
> As always, I can never have enough reviews. They make my week. What would really make my holidays though would be to see some more Code Geass fanfics. :)
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 for your help with betaing.


	6. Standing on the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Nunnally, Euphie, and Kallen discovered Mr. Cameron's murder/assassination after their controversial student film. Roy is struggling with Lelouch's absence and Marianne's visit has made him suspicious. Suzaku is totally not stalking Lelouch through magazines.

_The story of Poulin's affair continues to develop. The photos have been verified, and three independent sources confirmed that Poulini and Katherine Fang shared a hotel room. Now, a Russian oil tycoon has come forth, claiming to have evidence tying Fang to top officials in the Chinese Federation. So far, the Consulate has not responded to our request for a comment, but we hope to address the allegations at tomorrow's press conference._

_If true, it will further shake people's trust in the administration. Already, people are calling for Poulini's resignation. Mr. Verley, President Beaux's opponent, has been leading the charge, declaring the current administration corrupt and incompetent for allowing a spy near top officials._

— _Point de Vue: Secretary of Defense, Raoul Poulin's Affair with Alleged Spy_

* * *

**Outer Concessions, Tokyo, Area Eleven**

Kallen had known there would be repercussions for their short film. She expected censure and, at worst, an investigation into Ashford Academy under some paper thin excuse. Busy with piloting, she barely spared a thought to the impending consequences.

It felt good to finally stick it to Britannia. Even if it was a meaningless little school project.

Kaguya was going to be so disappointed when she found out. Fortunately, she was keeping her distance, and Kallen was happily delaying the inevitable lecture. Patience was perhaps a necessity, but that didn't mean Kallen had to do nothing.

She could fight and prove herself

Potentially even recruit allies for the JLF at Ashford.

The student council had a surprising amount of depth. Shirley had lost family in Area Two, although she blamed the Count and not the military for their disproportioned actions. She was inherently nice, despite her fanatically tracking the mysterious Zero through the press.

Rivalz's own family troubles left him highly critical of nobility and the power of the courts.

Milly had revealed herself to be quite aware despite the perverted and airheaded act she put on. Or, she could actually be perverted. Frankly, Kallen couldn't tell.

Euphie, their newest member, was more of a mystery. She had connections according to Lord Ashford. She understood military tactics and easily broke down famous battles in history. Unfortunately for everyone who thought to cheat off her, she breathed military terminology, leaving even the instructor confused. Despite that, she was abysmal at history and, in a rare break of composure, once threw the textbook across the room.

Nunnally was… Nunnally. A mess of contradiction toeing the line of treason. And wherever she went, Allie would follow.

They were good people... They had even spoken against the Britannian mindset.

Now, there was an innocent man, dead in a bathtub filled with blood.

Her fists clenched as she watched Nunnally and Allie quietly converse as they led the way through crumbling roads and past debilitated buildings. Did they even have a plan? She could only hope.

The area wasn't safe and finding death so suddenly... It would drive anyone to poor decisions.

She should've turned around. Protected her cover and played the part of the loyal student, who saw nothing wrong in the Britannian way. Except she had already failed by not speaking against the foolish film.

She knew better. Britannia would never change of its own volition.

Yet, Allie and Nunnally were determined to right the wrong. Euphie had decided to follow them despite her protests and idiotic faith in Britannia.

They were all going to die. Gutted by some desperate vagrant. Or kidnapped to never see the light of day and satisfy some psycho's fantasy.

"Are you mad at me as well?" Euphie asked, pulling her coat tighter. "I just... If everyone were to do the right thing, then none of this would happen. Maybe it wouldn't be perfect, but people are good... Do you really think he was murdered?" Her voice cracked. "That Clovis—"

How could Euphie have that much faith in people? Only a Brittannian could afford to be so naive.

Kallen bit back her harsh words and stuffed her fists in her pockets. "I think it is mighty convenient and there's a motive. I don't think we will find any evidence. The prince isn't sloppy enough to be caught and tarnish his stellar reputation."

In the end, the actor would remain one of the countless victims of Britannia's oppression.

"So you think Nunnally is right..."

"It's not that..." Kallen searched for the right words. The Britannian words. "Since last year, there've been seven assassination attempts on my father. They don't like his business dealings. Especially because he and Lord Ashford are moving more into the commoner's market. Change scares people. And when powerful men are angry, they retaliate."

"But he didn't _do_ anything wrong. And I checked because Nunnally was so worried. It wasn't against the law." Hunching her shoulders, Euphie scuffed her shoes against the ground. "She knew though, and I didn't believe her. Am I really such a fool?"

Yes. Without a doubt.

"Nunnally has more experience," Kallen said diplomatically, wondering why she was always the one having to comfort her. Euphie was some sheltered, posh noble. And Kallen was... Kallen. She was grossly underqualified for this.

"No, she doesn't," Euphie said bitterly. "I'm the one who is always listening and asking questions. I know what everyone is doing. What they're happy about. What they are afraid of. And they trust me. Nunnally just ignores everyone and plays chess with Sch— She calls them all liars. Which yes, but those are polite lies. No one is going to air their dirty laundry."

"You know her better than I do..." Kallen frowned. "Even if she acted like you, people would treat her differently because she's blind and a commoner."

Unlike Nunnally, Euphie was a fountain of accidental tidbits. Instead of solving the contradiction that was Nunnally Lamperouge, it made everything more confounding.

Perhaps Nunnally was a noble herself. But then why shirk the protection of nobility? The teachers and students would be much more respectful, if she was. And her brother was most definitely a regular soldier according to everyone. No sane noble would risk their life by entering the hellscape of the enlisted ranks.

"I guess," Euphie mumbled. "Lots of people are still rude to her mother which is stupid. She more than earned everything she got."

Then it was her mother's influence that gave Nunnally such access? She was a knight. But her children would never inherit her title. Most commoner raised knights used their newfound rank to marry into nobility.

"Is her father even in the picture? Nunnally only ever talks of her mother... Is he even alive?" Kallen probed.

"My sister says he was always enamored with her mother. She has such a warm heart and enough accomplishments to easily fill hours of conversation." Euphie looked around the dirty streets as people passed them with patched clothes. "She would be disheartened by the poverty here. Perhaps the proceeds from Milly's next grand affair can be donated to a charity here."

Only when they finally stopped before an old, smoggy, mechanic shop, Kallen realized that Euphie had failed to answer her question. A chapter on pleasant discourse from her etiquette book—Lord Ashford and Naoto were incredibly insistent she learned from which was ridiculous; Kallen's manners were fine—rose in her mind. The art of leading conversation away from tenuous and embarrassing topics.

For Euphie, it had been effortless. Kallen had barely noticed. Would've thought her mind had suddenly wandered and the segue, unintentional. Except, she had lead with praise. Tied it into an observation of their surroundings. And ended with a leading statement.

In the entire course of their conversation afterwards, she had never asked a question, only suggesting topics.

Whether Nunnally's father was in the picture or even alive remained a mystery.

Kallen narrowed her eyes. Euphie, unaware, stood calmly, completely unperturbed by the filth around her. Initially, she had looked out of place. Now, she stood like a sovereign, expecting the entire world to bow at feet.

Euphie Lichtberg—if that even was her real name—was not some minor noble.

She had connections, Lord Ashford had said. Right. More like she was the connection. A deadly enemy. Or a powerful ally.

No wonder she was so sheltered. The upper court barely deigned to interact with the lower court. The concerns of commoners were so far beneath their notice.

Yet, how did Nunnally factor into this puzzle?

"Lost, girls?" a woman called out, her clothing scandalously bare and inappropriate for the weather. "I'm sure I can help some fella galls out." She sauntered closer, grinning. "For a price."

Allie detangled herself from Nunnally, yet continued to hold her hand. "Is Brian in?"

The restaurant owner?

The smile fell. "Hear that boys, the twerp wants to see Brian!" She leaned in closer and Kallen averted her eyes. "Now, what would he want with a bunch of twerps such as yourself?"

Nunnally squeezed Allie's hand before letting go and stepping closer to Kallen. Around them, the sounds of production ceased as everyone focused on them. A lumbering man in the corner stood, his jacket briefly stretching and revealing the contour of a gun.

Why couldn't Kallen have made some normal Britannian friends? Ones that wouldn't get her killed.

"I have something to ask of him," Allie answered with painfully false bravado.

Kallen took a step forward. As the eldest, she should take charge. At least she knew how to fight. Nunnally's arm blocked her, and she slowly shook her head.

"Scram," ordered the lumbering man, walking forward.

Undeterred, Allie raised her chin. "Not before we see Brian. It's somewhat urgent. I know he's here."

"Don't give a shit. Brats like yourself, scram or work. Ya too soft for the latter." He sneered. "Now, get."

"What's the hold up here? I'm not running a charity here." Brian stepped forward and his eyebrows rose, catching sight of them. "What the hell are you brats all the way out here for?"

"We need to talk to you about something," Allie said. "It concerns some apartments of yours."

His eyes flicked towards Nunnally. "Fine. Follow me."

"Nunnally," Euphie whispered as they followed. "He doesn't strike me as the most trustworthy fellow."

"Not now," Nunnally hissed.

"Tell your brother, girl, to hurry back so I can prove once and for all that my curry recipe is superior. Last time was beginner's luck," Brian said.

"Of course," Nunnally assured. "I'll remind him to drop by when he has time."

Kallen frowned. She had heard the other student council members rave about her brother's cooking before, but curry wasn't a typical Britannian recipe. And how the hell did he even meet such a shady man?

Inside a makeshift office, Brian gestured at a few scattered crates and fell into a weathered armchair. "Take a seat, kids. Now, unless that posh academy of yours is investing here, you betta start talking real fast."

"Andrew Cameron was renting one of your apartments under a pseudonym," Allie began, her back straight.

Brian leaned forward. "The movie star? Here? He giving autographs?"

"He's dead," Allie said bluntly. "Apparent suicide. We want to know what actually happened. It's bad business for you, if people are getting killed in your territory."

At times, the differences between Japanese and Britannian culture, surprised Kallen. In Britannia, suicide was always seen as the most dishonerable act. The best way to die was in battle or an assasination. Barring that, old age.

But dying due to an unfortunate accident? It was seen as a sign of shame.

Ending one's own life brought dishonor upon the entire family. Perhaps this was why Nunnally was so insistent on pursuing his. Not only was Mr. Cameron's name smeared, his entire family risked losing access to his savings and future royalties.

Frowning, Brian pulled out a small box of cigarettes and silently extended it to them. "No? He died in his room, right? Else, I'd already know. Problem is most folks around here would just stab him. If they're smart, they'd hide the evidence." He lit his cigarette. "No need ta make it look like anything else. And you have suspicions, don't ya?"

"We only need proof that it was murder. Someone had to have seen something. Everyone knows everyone here. An outsider would've been noticed."

He exhaled slowly and gestured to Nunnally. "The only reason why I'm even bothering listening is because I owe her brother a favor. But murder investigations don't fall under that. There's no incentive really. An outsider killed another. A fairly high profile one, probably with many enemies. As long as it doesn't happen again, there's no need to concern myself with it."

"Lelouch wouldn't associate himself with a criminal like yourself. He's too honorable for—" Euphie cut off as Kallen drove an elbow into her side.

"I'm a mere businessman," he said. "All above the board. I even pay my patriotic taxes. Plus a little donation to the Knight Police."

"You're an Eleven with a gun," Euphie countered.

"Euphie. Not the time," Kallen hissed. They really should have left her behind. She would probably be heartbroken to learn Kallen was with the JLF.

He snorted and tossed at her a worn passport. "Honorary Britannian, sweetheart. Never was an Eleven. And this gun is perfectly legal. Filed all the proper paperwork and everything. "

He didn't have full citizenship, so clearly hadn't immigrated before the invasion. Nor could he be half like Kallen. Yet to never have been an Eleven...

Kallen sneered. "You honorless scum. You sold out Japan. Don't you have any pride in being Japanese? In your country?"

Surprise flashed across his face, then his eyes hardened. Icily, he said, "I was never Japanese despite living here. Same for my parents. And their grandparents. Japan took everything from us. Sold our island so the E.U. could have their little military base post the Pacific War and then ignored us as they destroyed our sacred coasts. Funnily enough, Britannia invades and all of a sudden, I'm for the first time in my life, Japanese. They only cared about us after they lost."

He laughed. "So when the Britannians came knocking and offered us a deal, we accepted. Don't insult me by calling me Japanese. They turned their back on us a long time ago, so we turned on them."

"How many died because of your cowardice?" Kallen asked.

"Does it matter? My family didn't." He dared to shrug and exhaled slowly, sending smoke drifting her way. "And we got Honorary status along with a tidy sum."

Seething, Kallen stood. "We will not find any help here from a man who willfully betrayed his country, only a knife between our ribs."

Nunnally tilted her head.

"I agree," Euphie said, surprising her. "A man's first loyalty should always be to his country. To turn his back on their country is the worst betrayal. Britannia may have paid you, but you will always turn to the highest bidder. We're leaving."

"Sit down," Nunnally ordered. "My apologies Brian. I thought my companions would have the courtesy to remember their manners. I humbly beg for your forgiveness for my oversight."

"I'm sorry," Allie whispered. "I should've—"

"—No matter," Nunnally cut in. "I understand you will be taking a considerable risk investigating the matter. Naturally, I am willing to compensate you for this matter."

He snorted. "You're doing better than your brother. _His_ friend tried to shoot me. Twice." Chuckling, he leaned back. "Very well. Who's the suspect?"

"Prince Clovis," Nunnally said hesitantly.

"Hell no. You trying to kill me lass? I prefer my ass far away from any royals."

"Find me the proof that Mr. Cameron didn't kill himself, and I'll do the rest. Trouble for Clovis can only help your business."

Kallen gaped at Nunnally's blatant audacity. Telling someone she was targeting a royal? She had a death wish. And was dragging Kallen into the hot water. She wanted to fight, but a Britannian school girl's plot was not how she imagined it.

Brian stroked his chin, observing the rest of them. "That's a lofty goal. An impossible one. Clovis is untouchable."

"Think of it as a challenge." Nunnally leaned forward. "You give me the proof and, at minimum, I can make him sweat. It's more than anyone else has been able to do... Defeating the undefeatable. You can't tell me you aren't tempted?"

There was absolutely no way this was going to work. The traitor was going to sell them out. And once the prince's men discovered Kallen's heritage, she would be the one framed as corrupting innocent school children.

No one. Absolutely no one would believe a blind girl was behind this plot.

Defying expectations, Brian grinned and ground his cigarette in the ashtray. "You've got my attention. Now you only need to afford it. And no cashing in on your brother's favor. I highly doubt he'd approve."

Clearly, the only treasonous member of the Lamperouge family was Nunnally. Her brother was simply corrupt. Typical of a Britannian.

For the briefest moment Nunnally wavered, a glimpse of weakness in her confident facade. Despite everything, she was only a child. Yet, she shook it off, laughing, and leaned forward.

"Nobles love playing chess and I've heard you have some debts. Wager that a blind girl can defeat them at their own game. They won't let the insult stand. And when I win, your debts will be wiped clean, and embarrassment will keep them silent."

"You don't play in any of the local circuits. How do I know you'll win? It's quite a gamble on my part on an unproven player."

"I've played elsewhere. I doubt anyone here will be up to par with my normal opponent."

He frowned. "How good are we talking?"

"Very good," Euphie interrupted, her eyes wide. "She regularly plays against the best player of our extended family. She's one of the few people he lost to. And he plays chess regularly."

"Only twice," Nunnally grumbled. "And they don't count. He was distracted."

Euphie snorted. "That's half the game. He's a master of riling people up, so they make a mistake. You two draw more often than not which is better than most people can say. And you're not counting the blitz matches. You won most of those."

Nunnally shrunk in her seat.

"If you lose," Brian warned, "you'll be in my debt. And your friends as well." He paused and idly tapped his finger against the couch. "You sure you can win?"

"Yes," Nunnally said, back straightening.

"There's a competitor of mine... He has been expanding into my territory and has some... unsavory practices. He's fascinated by chess... and a damn good player." His hand stilled and he stood up. "He likes to collect decent players. Finds fresh talent by sponsoring local chess games and offering a tantalizing sum. Never actually has to pay because his best player always wins."

"You want me to compete."

"If you lose, I'll have a decent grasp of your skills and see if I should risk gambling on you. But if you're good as you claim, he'll invite you to a private game. Your blindness might be a problem, but he likes pretty things."

Kallen shuddered at the implications.

"He'll lose the first match. Then ask for a re-match and propose a wager. Probably offer some obscene amount of money. You don't need to win. Just keep him busy while my men do their business."

Heart hammering, Kallen reached forward and grasped Nunnally's wrist as she began to rise. Warnings sirens blared in her mind. This was beyond foolish. Even treason paled in comparison. There were so many ways this could go wrong.

But Nunnally stood, ignored their horrified hisses, and extended her hand. "We have a deal."

* * *

**Zeroth Division Base, Area Six**

Absently, Roy scanned through the stack of terrorism reports in his hands. The Second Brigade was seeing combat in the South as they tried to ease the rising tensions. Various floods had wiped out the major roads, stalling transportation of military personnel and essential goods. The Viceroy was up in arms about the decreased economic output and the people anxious due to declining jobs.

Even his family's business was being affected.

For now, the focus was ensuring that the E.U. didn't discover exactly how capricious the situation was. They would flood the region with weapons in another attempt to start an uprising. Britannia, as always, would shrug it off. Only the Numbers and the poorest commoners would suffer.

The most frustrating part was that Lelouch had everything under control until nature itself had decided to flip them the finger.

Swatting a mosquito, Roy grimaced and entered the staff room. Surrounded by empty coffee cups, Pablo sat hunched over the table and massaged the dark bags beneath his eyes. Across the room, Sergeant Major Gill glared at the sputtering coffee machine.

Without Lelouch here, Roy was suddenly the youngest person in the room. Pablo was the second youngest at twenty-eight, and only seven years older than him. Yet despite the cavernous age gap, they had to listen to him and Lelouch. And unlike his friend, Roy wasn't a genius. His only claim to authority was because he had the fortune to be in the same squad as Lelouch during Basic.

"Everything alright?" Roy asked, taking a seat.

Pablo reached out and drained another cup of coffee. "Funny story. We had supplies waiting for pick up in a warehouse. I even managed to get a great deal on rations. Unfortunately, two years ago, a noble bribed the dam inspector. Now, our supplies are making their way out to sea. Rain, truly the greatest enemy Britannia faces at the moment."

Roy sagged in his seat. "Any good news?"

"I sent a supply company to see if anything could be salvaged and help the civilians. With some luck, we can offset some of our losses, but the Quartermaster General is a stingy bastard, so we'll need to find supplies elsewhere. Fortunately, Lelouch has a wonderful list of easy to bribe nobles, but we'll need to dip into our emergency funds and ration food until I can get us a deal."

"Britannia, corruption is thy name," Roy mumbled. "The Viceroy is pissed as well. Any ideas would be welcome."

Sergeant Major Gill snorted. "He expects Zero to also fight floods?"

"Clearly," Roy grumbled.

The door swung open and Colonel Lopez walked in whistling. Noticing their dour expressions, he stopped abruptly. "Someone important died?"

"Only a dam," Pablo answered. "The Zeroth Division must fight excessive rainfall for its next herculean task."

"I'll add swimming to the men's training," Colonel Lopez said. "The Crow is going to be a few minutes late."

Sergeant Major Gill scowled. "He wouldn't know punctuality, if it bit him in the ass. Don't know why Lelouch still keeps him around. He'll betray us at the first opportunity."

"Lelouch trusts him." Colonel Lopez shrugged. "Damn if I know why."

"Because the kid is too forgiving when the crime is against himself," Pablo said. "And because he's the only one remotely qualified for his position in the entire division. We all learned on the job; he ran the Count's intelligence network without tipping off the OSI. I may not like him, but he is useful."

It had taken months before Lelouch let the truth slip regarding Art's true role as the Count's second. Not only had he kidnapped his friend, he had been responsible for countless losses on their side. And then...

"He tortured him," Roy growled.

The others flinched. Lelouch never used the word, always called it an _ordeal_ if he couldn't avoid the subject. There were no permanent physical scars, but he hadn't escaped unscathed. His sudden hatred for tea was merely the tip of the iceberg.

"A vacation might do the kid some good," Pablo said. "He needs time to relax."

"Doubtful," Roy said. "He's dealing with family, and, unless it's his sister, he always returns high-strung. Henry is the only one worse off after visiting his family."

Both of them became ridiculously touch averse and their body language screamed in wrongness. It was subtle, but Lelouch would adopt a more formal posture. His gestures took on an extravagant edge. His accent shifted slightly, making him sound pretentious like during training, when every word out of his mouth pissed off the Drill Sergeant.

Normally, Lelouch's quirks only revealed themselves when he was under great stress.

As for Henry... Roy was at a loss. There was no tinge of nobility, but rather subservience. Sometimes, it felt like a stranger was wearing his skin, until Henry found his way back.

Colonel Lopez sighed. "Can't imagine what the Emperor was thinking. The kid might've defeated the Count, but he was tortured. Putting him in charge of a gutted division? It's like he set him up to fail."

Sergeant Major Gill nodded. "The Emperor did. We had no officers left. While the nobles were almost all incompetent, nobody really knew how to do their full job. Lelouch had to learn on the job. He made plenty of mistakes. Especially with logistics."

"Oh, please don't remind me," Pablo moaned. "We were all fools to think we'd actually get the supplies we wanted. The 712th is literally their lowest priority. We don't need good equipment; we're cannon fodder."

Roy frowned. "Alex said Zero belonged to the Emperor. And insinuated the consequences for failure, would've been dire."

Sergeant Major Gill glanced away.

"You know something," Roy accused.

"It's how Lelouch convinced me to stay," Sergeant Major Gill said. "Said the Emperor wasn't too keen on letting Empress Marianne's promise stand. Lelouch is too cynical to be patriotic, so the Emperor pointed a gun at all our heads. If Lelouch failed, we'd be dead."

"Why?" Pablo asked. "Why even bother giving him the opportunity to stack the deck against him?"

"It's always a test with royals," Roy said tiredly, remembering Empress Marianne's so-called game. "Lelouch isn't very... loyal. Having him fail a lesson of humility would've made Lelouch blame himself for our deaths. After which, the Emperor could knight him and sent him to the Imperial Academy to get the proper training and reap the rewards of Lelouch's genius."

"Except Lelouch beat him," Colonel Lopez said. "He convinced a Crow to help him. On the bright side, Lelouch made himself indispensable. He's Zero, and anyone would be hard pressed to fill his shoes."

Art sighed from the doorway, startling everyone. "Lelouch would have succeeded without me. The Emperor wanted to teach him the necessity of the proper Britannian way. Excessive force and whatnot." He pulled out a chair. "But it warms my heart that you find my expertise to be so crucial. I would've never known with your constant derision."

"Pardon me," Sergeant Major Gill said, "if I doubt that the Emperor put a kid, who had just been tortured, in charge and expected him to succeed."

"Empress Marianne suggested Lelouch would be sent elsewhere, so he can make himself of more use," Roy said bitterly. "She would see him as a conqueror."

Everyone around the table grimaced.

"The Emperor has unrealistic expectations," Art said. "A reasonable man wouldn't pursue relentless expansion. From his throne, we are all pawns for his amusement. Lelouch crossed his board and became Zero."

Roy narrowed his eyes at the Crow. "How do you even know this?"

Why had Lelouch kept it a secret from him?

"Lelouch told me," Art said, shrugging. "I wouldn't spread it around. If the men get word of this, their talk will cause trouble for Lelouch."

"Because we have a spy from the Emperor," Roy said.

In reviewing Empress Marianne's action, he discovered she had been too aware of how the division functioned. She had known where to find him. Where he liked to withdraw to find some peace and comfort.

At first, he suspected York, but the man had laughed into his face. It had been a long shot.

Lelouch kept him at a distance, and Empress Marianne had known his habits as well. She hadn't even bothered to ask where the tea was in Lelouch's office, instead ordering a private to fetch her a kettle. She navigated Lelouch's bizarre filing system with confidence. She even knew where Lelouch kept his fancy pepper.

Someone close to Lelouch was reporting back to her, and she was interested enough in him to study them thoroughly. It wasn't enough for the Emperor to blackmail him into submission, but also strip away his privacy. If Roy found the spy, they would be having a word on loyalty.

Art faced him, his face impassive.

"Who?" Roy demanded.

"Why would you ever draw that conclusion?" Art rolled his eyes. "As if the Emperor would care."

Roy inhaled slowly, slowly uncurling his fingers. Yelling at the Crow would accomplish nothing. "Empress Marianne knew where Lelouch stashed his reading material. She took his book with her."

At least it had been a proper English book; Roy had long mastered the art of pretending not to notice his friend's reading material—most of them were banned.

"The red one?" Pablo asked weakly, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"Yes?"

"That'll be fun to explain to my grandfather. Yes, I asked for a copy of the history book you're writing and gave you hope that I would come to my senses. But alas, I lent it to my commanding officer for their birthday, and then Empress Marianne walked off the base with it." Pablo chuckled and finished his coffee. "It'll have the honor of being the first book of his banned before publication."

Art cursed softly. Leaning across the table, he snatched the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "The Emperor wasn't going to let Lelouch operate without supervision. Lelouch knows who the spy is, but since there's nothing you can do about it, you'll drop the matter. It doesn't matter unless someone is stupid enough to plan a coup. If the Emperor hasn't acted upon all of Lelouch's slightly treasonous statements before, I doubt whatever was in the book will push him to care."

No wonder Lelouch was so paranoid. His actions were under constant review. Yet, he still didn't bother to keep his opinions to himself. Knowing Lelouch, it was his way of resisting. Roy wished his friend would take a safer path. One filled with less royals for one.

"We drop it, or we end up in unfortunate accidents" Sergeant Major Gill said and shook his head as Art nodded. "Damn it, Pablo. Stop giving Lelouch illicit books. I, for one, would like him to remain in command instead of some idiot noble ponce. No wonder you keep failing your background check when promotions come around."

Not that it would change Pablo's responsibilities. His experience in helping run the black market translated surprisingly well in running the division's logistics. He was doing the work of an officer, despite remaining a Staff Sergeant.

Roy frowned. "Why hasn't Lelouch promoted you?"

Pablo stood up and picked up the coffee pot and refilled each one of his numerous cups. "Lelouch has been trying for three years. Unfortunately, he has to defend all high ranking personnel. Jim has a good track record; I helped run the black market. Lelouch's solution was to give me the job anyway, although the extra pay would be nice."

"And the Brits would much rather have a proper Britannian than a Number." Roy sighed. "No wonder Lelouch lurks in the kitchen before any major promotions."

Sergeant Major Gill snorted. "Don't know who he is arguing with, but he spends the entire time pacing the room on his secure phone. Never raises his voice though."

"So my promotion is because of my blood and nepotism," Roy said bitterly. He had already known that, but it hurt to have it confirmed. "No wonder the men resent me."

"I'll be honest. Some of the men do. They think they can do your job better. In a fair world, they probably could." Sergeant Major Gill shrugged. "Louis knows more than I do. But he's foul mouthed and an Eight. I survived because I learned to play politics from watching the nobles. That skill was more important to Lelouch."

"Politics?" Roy asked. They were basically a separate branch of the military with how rarely they coordinated with others. There was no need for them to worry about political jostling. They did their job.

"None of us understand Britannian culture well enough. You understand what the various bows actually mean, which title to use when addressing a noble, and how to decipher their true intentions from honeyed words. It's almost instinctive for you and Lelouch. He tries to teach me, but the gap in knowledge is too big to span in any reasonable time. Lelouch foresaw that those skills would be needed. Empress Marianne, while definitely unexpected, proved him right. That is why he chose you instead of the other candidates he was considering."

"Gino is a noble," Roy protested.

Colonel Lopez chuckled. "Gino is all heart and brawn, but no brains. Getting him to take any responsibility is near impossible. He wouldn't last a day in your shoes. Dealing with the Butcher and the Vampire may make anyone reconsider their life, but we need your head in the game. They're gone. It's over. Time for work."

Roy sighed. They were right. "Pablo, did we get our birds for aerial surveillance?"

"Yes, sir. Our pilots still need training though before we send them out on a mission," Pablo said.

"Dense foliage isn't the best," Colonel Lopez said, "but I'm keeping them inland. I don't want our base to be accidentally compromised while they train. Until we get more birds, the few pilots from Area Eight and Nine will suffice."

At least one thing was going right. Knightmares were an essential part of armed combat nowadays, but air power was still invaluable. As long as the helicopters flew outside of the range of a slash-harken, they could receive vital updates on troop movements.

"Additionally," Roy continued, "Lelouch strongly suggested we spread a rumor that the Zeroth Division is in Venezuela. We can send a battalion to make some noise? The region is mostly stable, so I'm hesitant to commit troops when the situation is more tenuous down south."

Art groaned. "I'll take care of it. It will make a convenient trap for E.U. agents at the minimum, but remind Lelouch he's supposed to be on vacation, not manipulating public opinion or the economy or whatever he's scheming."

No. Lelouch was attending a funeral. Or busy cleaning up his family's books. Or something innocuous. Not abusing his position for insider training, gambling, or something worse.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your other duties," Roy said. "Lastly, we need to send a battalion to the coast. Officially, we want to protect Britannia's ports. Unofficially, there are rumors that the Viceroy's family is in danger. It's in everyone's best interest that they stay out of harm."

"Watching a bunch of nobles frolicking in their fancy estates while their families are starving is going to be really bad for morale," Sergeant Major Gill warned. "It's too much standing around and doing nothing but thinking."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Roy considered the situation.

His men needed to feel like they were making a difference. Hunting nobles for their crimes indirectly protected their home and gave them hope for a better future. Justice was a tantalizing ideal, winning the hearts of men. Protecting the Viceroy's family, whose policies systematically plundered their home, brought forth dangerous ideas.

Ideas, admittedly, which took root in Roy's own mind.

Instead of insisting production quotas had to be met, the Viceroy should have eased restrictions and offered humanitarian aid. His actions would have demonstrated Britannia's power and generosity.

Greed turned men into short sighted fools.

Roy set down his coffee cup and leaned forward. "Send the entire First Brigade along with Gino and his landscapers. We'll claim to be taking pre-emptive strikes against a rumored coalition of insurgents. As the troops search the countryside for our insurgents, they'll be focusing on reestablishing essential infrastructure and providing humanitarian aid. For now, we'll be operating as the 712th. Menial tasks are perfect for us, after all."

"I assume you want me to spread a rumor that the Viceroy is ordering the aid?" Art guessed.

"Yes. As long as the citizens continue to admire him, organized rebellion will have a difficult time recruiting without being caught. As for guard duty, we rotate the companies."

"This is going to be expensive," Pablo grumbled, flipping through various papers. "Lelouch will have an aneurism when he sees our budget."

Roy winced. As their division was primarily composed of Numbers, their allotted budget per soldier was cut in half. Additionally, the various games from their suppliers, who thought it was amusing to dupe some Numbers and commoners, strained their meager cash reserves even further.

Pablo frequently requisitioned Gino to cut through their bullshit.

Despite his mannerisms, Gino was still the son of an influential noble. The fourth son of Margrave Weinberg, the Minister of Commerce, was a potent weapon. Unfortunately, he was a weapon of last resort. Having Margrave Weinberg turn his gaze towards the division would cause trouble.

"Any noble we can target to liquidate their assets?" Roy asked desperately. He didn't have the devil's luck necessary to pursue Lelouch's usual solution to budget deficits: gambling.

"Surprisingly, no," Art said. "Lelouch might've been a little too efficient in the past few years. The ones left are smart enough to not leave proof lying around."

"Like Margrave Oberstein," Sergeant Major Gill said. "I have no idea how someone shady can be so squeaky clean. That's suspicious of itself."

Roy drained his coffee. "I'm an idiot. Should've asked Empress Marianne for a bigger budget instead of block leave."

"How did that even happen?" Sergeant Major Gill asked.

"Right after testing my loyalty and threatening me with knighthood, she offered me a boon," Roy said.

"Putting aside the fact you impressed the Butcher enough for her to offer you a promotion," Pablo said, "which really should put to rest your concerns about competency... Have you informed Lelouch?"

"Yes," Roy said, feeling self-conscious. "He didn't say anything."

"That doesn't sound like him," Pablo said, brow furrowed. "If he knew Empress Marianne was here, he would've freaked and bombarded everyone with questions. I could try sending a message through Nunnally for you. Her letters might not be censored."

"Why are you even in contact with her?" Roy asked.

"Remember Lelouch's little mail scheme? My grandfather was thrilled to keep in contact, but it felt rude to pass the messages through her without acknowledging her. One thing led to another. She occasionally asks me how Lelouch is actually doing, but she still keeps in contact with my grandfather, and they discuss history." Pablo frowned, his finger tapping on the table. "May I be dismissed, sir? There is something I need to check."

Roy narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded. "Go beg the Quartermaster General for funds and supplies. We technically hadn't taken custody of the supplies yet, so the flood is on their head. Get Gino to throw around his family's name if need be. We're going ahead with humanitarian aid. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed," Roy said.

The rest of the meeting proceeded easily as they reviewed the latest reports from the brigades and disciplinary actions forwarded up the chain of command. Roy massaged his temples as Sergeant Major Gill left to gently break the news that they would be functioning on limited rations for the upcoming weeks. Colonel Lopez followed after attaining his approval for a new training regiment for the newest recruits.

Only Art lingered. "If you keep digging, you may be joining me on the executioner's block. Tread carefully."

Roy snarled. "And you know everything, don't you?"

"I'm a dead man walking," Art said calmly. "I accepted this position under the condition that Lelouch wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm his friend," Roy protested. He was the one Lelouch should trust, not the man who delivered him to the Count without remorse.

"Which means he tries to protect you. Certain truths cannot be unlearned." Art closed his eyes as he glared. "He keeps secrets from you not because of a lack of trust, but because he values your right to choose. He's completely beneath other's thumbs..."

Like the Emperor who had taken the division hostage to ensure Lelouch's compliance. Or his father, who Lelouch feared for what he might do to his sister.

At least the Emperor did it for Britannia. Without incentive, Lelouch couldn't be trusted. He lacked the necessary patriotism. When running through battle scenarios with Roy, he spent more time playing the enemy and poking holes into their defenses.

Should he turn, he would be a fearsome enemy for Britannia.

But Lelouch's father? Roy despised him.

He was clearly a noble and had abused his position to pursue Lelouch's mother. Commoners, even when knighted, couldn't tell an important noble no without fearing serious repercussions. Roy's grandmother had always impressed upon him the necessity of maintaining distance between himself and any noble. They wielded power Roy would never be able to match and used it to force others into submission.

It was safer to fly beneath their radar. Any interaction had to be weighed carefully. His family had the resources to make inquiries regarding their character. They also had an entire box of excuses to escape any marriage proposals.

None of which would help Roy should Empress Marianne decide to knight him. He really needed to discuss this development with his family. Perhaps, they would even have recommendations on how to help his friend escape his father's control.

Art smiled sadly. "The truth would put you in a similar position. If you value your freedom, I'd stick your head in the sand and embrace the lie."

"No," Roy said. "I can't help him if I don't know anything. At least, I will be able to protect Lelouch from his father."

His eyes wide, Art paled.

"You know," Roy accused. "If you're going to deal with assassins and spies, then the least you could do was bring him down."

Art sank into his seat, cradling his head. "Please, never say anything like that again. Not even around Lelouch."

"The only thing you care about is your skin." Roy laughed. "There's not a drop of compassion in you. What's Lelouch suffering compared to what you put him through?"

"Oh, let me be clear," Art said coldly, "there's no one I despise more than Lelouch's father. Unfortunately, he is far beyond my reach. He's far beyond yours as well, Fadiman. Our efforts would be as inconsequential as mere gnats. We'd be killed like them too. If we draw his ire, not even Lelouch would be able to save our lives. You think Lelouch is vindictive? His father makes him look like a cute kitten. So never suggest moving against him again."

Roy swallowed. He had known Lelouch's father was powerful. But this... It was far beyond what he had imagined. There were scant few nobles who claimed that sort of far reaching power. An Earl at minimum. More likely a Margrave.

Lord Oberstein certainly fit the bill...

As did Lord Ashford, but Lelouch regarded him warmly.

The list of potential candidates had certainly shrunk from hundreds to a mere handful.

And Lelouch was struggling under his father's control. No wonder he seemed so resigned at times. Between the Emperor and his father, he had no freedom. Unless, he could play them off each other, but that was an incredibly risky proposition.

"Well, a Crow is just a coward," Roy said. "Thank you for the warning, but I won't turn my back on him. I'm not a traitor after all."

Art sighed, staring despondently at the empty pot of coffee. "Shit."

Roy rolled his eyes. "We're done here, unless you have any other sage advice."

"York is going to suggest Alex takes some time off. Don't approve it."

"Noted," Roy said coldly, exiting the room. Art had no right to interfere with his friends.

Before the door shut, he heard Art tiredly say, "I tried. Damn it, Lelouch. I tried."

* * *

**Shinjuku Ghetto, Tokyo, Area Eleven**

When Suzaku entered the kitchen, two teacups rested on the table, and he resigned himself to another discussion. Perhaps Tohdoh had discovered the slightly illegal leanings of his weekend employer, who hosted the local heads of each, so-called, "Neighborhood Defense Force." While none of them dared to risk his employer's ire by forcibly recruiting Suzaku, their attention occasionally drifted to his older students.

Suzaku would never let them be involved in something against their will. As their teacher, it was his duty to protect them.

If Tohdoh had discovered the fights, he would undoubtedly be displeased. It risked Suzaku's anonymity if someone involved the Knight Police. Still, it was worth it.

And wasn't Tohdoh constantly insisting he needed to make his own decisions. That his path in life was one he had to choose out of his own free will?

Or maybe, this was about Lelouch…

Suzaku took a seat, hoping it was the former. They almost never discussed Lelouch and Nunnally.

"Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe defected." Tohdoh studied the electric kettle, his shoulders sagging. "With him, he took a significant portion of our men."

"Why?" How could anyone just turn their back on the JLF. They did so much to help. The supplies and training they offered were absolutely essential in helping Japan recover.

"He's a short sighted fool," Tohdoh growled, slamming his fist on the counter. Breathing heavily, he straightened. "He's tired of biding our time and _wasting_ precious resources on humanitarian efforts. He would have us abandon our duty to the people to strike against Britannia and completely disregard the long-term consequences. He has no concept of diplomacy or subtlety. Does he truly think that Britannia will just roll over?"

Given what Suzaku remembered of the prideful man, he probably did.

The electric kettle rattled, and Tohdoh picked it up. "The only positive is that he took the like-minded men with him. The JLF is publically disavowing him. He will have a hard time finding support, but his rhetoric for action will siphon essential resources from our cause. And we were so close to making our move... Now, we have to do damage control and replace the equipment he stole."

Suzaku accepted the steaming cup and blew on it gently. This wasn't a normal conversation. "What will the JLF do?"

"Nothing."

Nothing? Suzaku frowned. Was this one of those strategic moves that Tohdoh kept trying to make him understand?

"Kusakabe is the symptom of a much larger problem. The ideological battle for Japan's future. He represents the past; and the JLF, the future. We spent days deliberating whether we should spend resources to hunt him down, potentially ousting ourselves to the Britannian intelligence, and then inevitably dealing with someone else who ascribes to the same ideology. Someone we don't know and can't predict. Or..."

Tohdoh sighed, highlighting the weary lines marring his face. "Or we let him be and commence an ideological battle. He'll deliver the first blow, and we're going to stand by and watch. Let the consequences of his actions play out.

"Best case scenario, the Brits apply pressure to the ghettos and revoke privileges. It will be a contest as to whom the Japanese turn on first. The JLF who have aided them for years. Or Kusakabe with bright promises of a free Japan."

Before, their discussions had always been in an abstract sense. Suzaku would listen over a game of shogi, nursing a cup of tea, as Tohdoh broke down historical battles and the tactics used by both sides. Chiba would always roll her eyes as she observed their ritual and pull him aside to teach him old traditions and history.

To move into concrete terms... Something had changed. Maybe, Tohdoh was finally acknowledging him as old enough to help.

For a moment, he was tempted to change the conversation. Direct it back to the Napoleonic Wars or discuss the effectiveness of self-defense moves for an absolute beginner. They were safer topics. Ones that didn't remind him of his father and the weight of the Kururugi name. Would helping his people require him to pick up the name again?

Tohdoh had promised to wait until he was ready.

And he was ready. Ready to fight and help... Not to pick up the burden of his family name.

Inhaling, Suzaku calmed himself. This was a test. First, he had to pass. Everything else could wait until after.

"Britannia might attempt a purge. Empress Marianne is perfectly capable of it." For once, his voice didn't crack.

Tohdoh nodded. "Then it becomes a battle for our survival. At the end, we will know if it is the old or new Japan that can survive. Or our beliefs will prove too weak, and we'll forever be condemned as mere Numbers."

"What is the new Japan?" Suzaku asked. Tohdoh spoke of it often, but never elaborated on what it meant beyond Japan being its people. "If Kusakabe can free Japan..."

"Let's say we somehow manage to repel the Britannian military, logistics aren't a crippling problem that'll have us all starving to death in a few months, and the question about what happens to the Brits, Honorary Britannians, and mixed couples living here are all magically solved."

In the middle of the table, Tohdoh set down a plate, and after a moment of consideration, a tiny bonsai tree. "This is Japan. Basically a barren rock if we're talking natural resources except for sakuradite—a double edged sword."

Pulling out his wallet, he dropped a few yen on the plate and, to the side, dumped all his pounds. Frowning, he emptied the rest of his wallet on the table. Each denomination represented its respective country.

After a moment of deliberation, Tohdoh removed two bills from Japan's meager pile. They were at an incredible disadvantage, their pile dwarfed not only by Britannia, but also the E.U. and China. Suzaku forced himself not to react as Tohdoh stood and began adding random condiments to the Britannian side, increasing their power.

"Kusukabe's plan stops here. He thinks we evict the Britannians, and that'll be the end. Maybe he will be elected Prime Minister for being a war hero or something. Unfortunately, that puts us right where we were before the invasion. But with less resources, lacking a defensive alliance with the Chinese and French, and non-existent infrastructure because Britannia will burn it to the ground as they retreat. What we still have is an extremely valuable vein of sakuradite that everyone wants to control."

Suzaku swallowed. He didn't even know how to tackle this. In the ghettos, people whispered in awe over the rumors that the JLF had knightmares and needed pilots. Without them, Britannia wouldn't have won. Glancing at the massive pile representing Britannia, he wondered if that was actually true.

Fielding their own knightmares would prevent a one sided slaughter but didn't guarantee a victory. United East Africa had fielded its own knightmares; they had been annihilated. The Empire hadn't even bothered to send their best pieces. Not a single Knight of the Round had been deployed outside of Britannia in the last three years.

Tohdoh gestured to the pile of copper coins, scowling. "If they haven't already, the Chinese will attack first. Given India, I doubt they'll be kind masters. Britannia will most likely let us diminish each other's forces, then swoop in like a vulture to claim the spoils. In the unlikely event China is waylaid, the E.U. becomes the next immediate threat. After our defeat in the First Pacific War, the E.U. determined that Japan wasn't worth the effort of holding onto, but still abolished our dynasty and built a military base on Okinawa to defend against the Britannian threat. Our government won't be recognized as legitimate, and the E.U. will once again invade to restore democracy.

"Britannia will fight to prevent the E.U. from gaining control over our sakuradite and probably draw the entire world in a three way war between the superpowers. The ones who'll suffer the most are the Japanese. Britannia might lose, but she's a vindictive mistress, who would rather destroy Mt. Fuji then let their enemies control it. Unless we can negotiate from a position of strength, Japan and its people will be destroyed."

Sakuradite. Everything revolved around the damn sakuradite.

Suzaku grabbed the innocent bonsai tree, representing their greatest weakness. "What if we destroy it first?"

"A plan of last resort." Tohdoh smiled proudly. "We have scientists determining the geological impact, or if it's possible to only detonate a part and fool the world into thinking otherwise. Unfortunately, it doesn't help us with defeating Britannia."

"But without sakuradite, Britannia wouldn't care," Suzaku argued. "They'd be wasting resources to gain nothing."

"Stability," Tohdoh answered. "If one Area manages to declare independence, what will stop the rest from raising the banners of rebellion? And here is where the two paths to victory present itself. Either the destruction of Britannia. Or its reformation."

To go from fighting for independence... to this? Britannia had everything. They were an unconquerable foe. Their Empire spanned half the world. They nursed grudges for over a century.

Helplessly, Suzaku gestured at the assorted pile of fruits, condiments, and pounds that represented Britannia's might.

Tohdoh shook his head and began splitting it into smaller chunks. One portion moved to the Chinese Federation. Another to the E.U. Even then, Britannia's forces outnumbered them. Maybe they could win, but how many would die? Tapping his finger on the counter, Tohdoh scanned the room before abruptly standing and leaving the room.

Returning with Ko's ant farm—his foster family refused to have it anywhere near them—Tohdoh set it down in the midst of Britannia's forces.

"We can't defeat Britannia on our own. But while I might despise the Count's duplicitousness, she revealed a major weakness. Britannia is crawling with restless portions. The commoners may love their royalty, but they despise the nobility who keeps them in poverty. It's why the Emperor has been gradually decreasing the power of the nobility in the past few years. He's well aware of the powder keg he is sitting on."

The ants, oblivious to their role on the table, worked peacefully. Suzaku was rather jealous. They only had to trust their queen and listen to her orders. They didn't have to make difficult decisions or despair at the cost of freedom. Ignorance was bliss.

Tohdoh pushed the various knick-knacks to the side and leaned over to the rice cooker. He returned, setting the pepper and salt shaker down. "Which one should be Kaguya?"

"Really?" Suzaku asked. He knew he often needed things spelled out. But this... was going a bit far. At the expectant look, he sighed. "Salt."

Shrugging, Tohdoh set the salt shaker down in the center of the table. "It's because of Kaguya we know so much we can plan ahead. She has access to most of the nobility, the royal family, and the Chinese Federation through Empress Tianzi. She's our most valuable agent, and the only one able to present our interests at court. Without her, our chance of success would be much lower. Her efforts have also helped improve the lives of the Japanese."

Mouth dry, Suzaku guessed, "You think Lelouch can help."

"Hopefully." Tohdoh pulled out the chess magazine and pushed it forward, open to Lelouch staring intently at the camera with his deceptively polite smile. "You're not the only trying to keep track of our elusive ghost. He's been trading favors in court. Kaguya usually bankrolls random Britannians' projects at his request and, a few months later, some reforms pass. Or a hospital, orphanage, or school pop up. The Emperor having him join the negotiations in Australia is hardly surprising. He's been doing it for years."

"Is he a threat?" Suzaku clenched his fists, cursing himself for letting the question slip. Fighting Lelouch... He really didn't want to.

But he had a duty to Japan. Lelouch was a prince. A representation of Britannia. They were natural enemies.

And once, best friends.

"At eleven, he managed to steal enough sakuradite cells to arm multiple traps which could disable a knightmare. He built all of them under our noses without alerting any of us. And then he lied to his mother to ensure your safety. Of course, he is a threat." Tohdoh sighed. "An enemy is a different matter. Truthfully, I'm relieved the Emperor made him a diplomat. He'll be deadly at it... but I can only think how much worse it would be, if he was trained in the art of war."

Suzaku nodded. Fighting him in the negotiation room was something he could do. He would lose; Lelouch always had a way of words. But facing him as an enemy commander? Lelouch would be trying to kill him. And Suzaku doubted he had the will to defend himself.

"You miss him." Tohdoh remarked softly. "I want your eyes wide open when you make decisions. But... I also want to protect you from pain. And this? It's going to be very painful."

"He was my first friend," Suzaku whispered, flipping the page to the more candid shot. "If I can't fight him..."

"Then you don't. Just promise me that you'll defend yourself, no matter what. I can't bear the thought of losing you because you were swept up in childhood nostalgia." Tohdoh raised the pepper shaker and turned it slowly. "Court is all about deception. We don't know how he has changed. If he's fully bought into the Britannian mindset or is honestly working to improve the lives of Numbers and commoners. If it's the latter, we have a chance to negotiate with him, and potentially embark on the path of reformation. While he's far from the throne, he must know which of his elder siblings would be a more amenable Emperor."

Reforming Britannia was tempting.

He still yearned for the old peaceful days, but the war had left permanent scars. Returning was impossible. Japan was overrun with Brits. They had built homes and set up businesses. Some of the Japanese had embraced the Honorary program and married a poor Brit to ensure their child would have full citizenship.

Their people had picked up Britannian habits.

And forgotten many of their own.

While the nobles were clearly Britannians and the Elevens, Japanese; between the two existed a sea of confusing connections that blurred the line. Commoners also suffered under Britannia's rule. Was it fair to abandon them to a bloody civil war, if there was another option? They were indoctrinated from birth, unable to see the injustices they suffered.

Ignorance couldn't be punished.

Suzaku brushed a finger over Lelouch's contemplative face. The JLF would use Lelouch. His mother held the hearts of the commoners. They saw her as proof their unfortunate position in life could improve. It was fascinating hearing their reverence as they spoke of her. Her inhumane slaughters only made her more respected.

For obvious reasons, the Japanese would never rally behind her. Her occupation of Tokyo was still fresh in their minds. Lelouch though had none of the baggage and benefited from her popularity. People were waiting to see what Empress Marianne's son would do. He only needed to ensure a meager victory for Britannia, and they would watch him in earnest. A commoner-born prince they called him.

Using Lelouch left a bad taste in his mouth. People weren't chess pieces, easily cast aside. Yet, his old friend probably expected it. For Britannia, everyone was a tool.

"Are you finally going to let me fight?" Suzaku asked. With Kusakabe loose, the JLF would need to increase recruitment. "Do you— My family's name. Are you telling me this, because you need me to wear it again?"

"You're not eighteen, yet. As for the Kururugi name, no," Tohdoh assured. "Command is currently unaware that you are alive and healthy. The few people who know I've sworn to secrecy. The JLF has made plans about what to do should you surface and, if you decide you are ready, I will explain them so you can choose which option suits you best. We will then approach the JLf together, from a position of strength, to negotiate a position favorable to yourself. Don't let your name slip before then. It would remove your only advantage, and everyone wishes to use you."

"I'm just..." Suzaku gestured aimlessly at himself. He was only a decent martial artist. The finer points of strategy escaped him, much to Tohdoh's continuous despair. His academics were merely passing, and he possessed none of Lelouch's genius. His people skills also left much to be desired. He was just... average. "Me."

Tohdoh frowned sternly. "Stop putting yourself down. If you resign yourself to mediocrity, you will have lost the battle before it is done. Your students absolutely adore you. Chiba told me that they seek you out and leave tokens of their appreciation at our door. When they get in trouble, you are one of the first people they turn to. Even the Brit kids trust you. When Refrain flooded our streets, you idiotically hunted down the local supplier, because you are a good person."

Uncomfortable at being praised, Suzaku hunched his shoulders and focused on the imperfections of the plastic table. He thought Tohdoh hadn't known about that.

"Unfortunately, what people want is the son of the Prime Minister. With your father dead and our government dismantled, many consider you to be the rightful ruler in exile."

Suzaku gaped. That wasn't how it worked. They had been a democracy. How could people be so stupid? He was simply a reminder of what Japan once was and a failure of a son.

"Did you know you're apparently hiding in the E.U., studying under their greatest generals? And a close friend with Empress Tianzi? Even the Middle Easter Federation joined the game. Of course, no one ever meets you, because you're hiding out of fears of assassins." Tohdoh couldn't be serious. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Ironically, Britannia is the only who hasn't bothered to play the game of the missing heir."

Groaning, Suzaku rested his head against the cool table. When he thought politics couldn't get more ludicrous, they did. "They should have Lelouch pretend to be me."

Tohdoh chuckled fondly. "Your little masquerade might actually explain why there seems to be some confusion whether your hair is black or brown. You played the poor dignitaries like fools."

"We didn't actually think it would work," Suzaku grumbled. "It was a stupid bet because Lelouch called me an ill mannered-buffoon. I swear Nunnally goaded us into it. We thought we could pull it off at most for an hour before someone called us out. We only switched clothes and put on a theater mask. Father should have been mad at everyone who failed to notice, not us."

"The sheer audacity of pulling it off for three days..." Tohdoh shook his head and refilled the kettle. "There was a running joke among the staff that the Emperor sent Lelouch to kill the Prime Minister by a fit of apocalyptic rage. You two certainly shaved off a few years with your mischief."

"If Lelouch had wanted to kill us, we wouldn't have stood a chance," Suzaku said. Lelouch had gotten into everywhere. From his bedroom to the weapon storeroom.

"Well, that was before we learned that Lelouch treated locks like minor nuisances. Then we joked the Emperor's doctor sent Lelouch away to save His Majesty's blood pressure." Tohdoh paused, staring intently. "You rarely bring him up. Until I found your collection of magazines, I honestly thought you were trying to forget him."

Suzaku leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I shouldn't want to know how he is doing. If he still remembers me. It's just... I remember how we laughed and Lelouch would drag me into his next scheme. We thought we could accomplish anything together. Yet, he doesn't really need me. I'll always be a mere Eleven, unworthy of even kissing his boots. You're right. It would be easier to let go, but every time I see Empress Marianne in the news, I'm reminded of how he lied to her."

They could never return to a happier time. There would always be a chasm between them. Their duty pulling them seperate ways, on a path neither could follow.

For once, Suzaku wanted to be selfish. Reclaim that friendship. Despite his efforts, all his newfound friendships paled in comparison. Unlike Lelouch, they didn't know him. Would never accept him, if they knew his greatest sin.

"I never told him goodbye," Suzaku finally settled on. His throat tightened and desperate to end the questioning, he repositioned the plate, representing Japan, in the center of the table. "What will happen to the ghettos after Kusakabe attacks?"

Tohdoh narrowed his eyes. The rattling from the kettle cut off any potential protests. Sighing, he returned with a fresh cup of steaming tea. "The Area will move up the threat index which will give Clovis more leeway in deploying the Imperial Army. The Emperor will also reinforce the garrisons here, and we can expect a surge of recruitment efforts among the ghettos. Mostly, it will depend on how Clovis reacts. He's a novice at military affairs so will probably resort to soft tactics such as traffic restrictions and impassioned speeches."

Despite the serious topic, Suzaku snorted. Even the Brits scoffed at Clovis's excessive tendency towards melodrama. The corners of Tohdoh's eyes crinkled, betraying his own amusement, before he suddenly scowled.

"That's not too bad, right?" Suzaku asked.

"No." Tohdoh, his eyebrows drawn together, sipped his tea. "It's annoying and will probably cripple many local business and fan resentment. It's just we forgot about the Purists. It'll be the perfect opportunity for them to steal power from Clovis."

"They'd be worse?"

"Not significantly. They want to abolish the Honorary Britannian system, which in the long run, isn't a bad thing for us." He waved his hand. "Kusukabe had more money than expected. We never figured out— Damn it." He stood up, ignoring his questions. As he grabbed his coat, he said, "Tell Nagisa I love her and I'm sorry I couldn't stay for dinner."

"Wait!" Suzaku shouted, lunging before the door. "Please, tell me. If something is wrong, I deserve to know."

"You're only a child."

"One with a bounty on his head," Suzaku countered.

Tohdoh pursed his lips, but stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry." He sighed and hung up his jacket again. "I wanted to give you a childhood, but this world doesn't have much patience for innocence."

Suzaku silently followed him back to the table. His tea had long cooled.

"The Purists," Tohdoh began, "stand to benefit from Kusukabe's reckless action. Clovis will prove himself incompetent. There's a chance... the Purists are planning a coup. If Kusakabe was paid by a Brit, and Britannia intelligence uncovers that, Area Eleven will shoot up the threat index, putting it slightly below Area Two under the Count's rampage, and around where Area Six hovers now. A minor purge of a single ghetto will be the least of our concerns then."

Shuddering, Suzaku wrapped his arms around himself. Area Two had been a blood bath. First, Empress Marianne had carved a bloody path through the country. They celebrated her for it, yet she had killed anyone in her way. Strict curfews had forced the area into lockdown and food shortages weakened the populations. Near the end, neighbor turned on neighbor out of rampant paranoia, and the Britannian military had begun to fire indiscriminately on civilians.

As for Area Six, it was crawling with soldiers. There, the fight wasn't against rebels, but organized crime, bolstered by the E.U. and Chinese. The only news from the Area was the almost regular arrests of corrupt nobles. The JLF exploited nobles in Area Eleven to fund their projects and to stay under the radar. While it wouldn't be as blood as Area Two, a similar treatment as to Area Six would inevitably expose the JLF.

"Who will the Emperor send?" Suzaku asked because everything depended on whether the incoming commander was a raging racist who would destroy the ghettos, a frothing nationalist who would eradicate any signs of Japanese culture, or an ardent patriot who would tear through the nobility for their treason, thus exposing the JLF.

"Potentially General Cornelia," Tohdoh said. "Rumor has it that United East Africa will be surrendering in the coming month. Their terms won't be favorable, but they're hoping to buy time for its allies so that the E.U. will finally get off their asses and become directly involved. She's close to Clovis and would probably jump at the opportunity. Sending a popular royal is a good political move and prevents conflicting loyalties. She's used to fighting standing armies though and her hatred for social pleasantries alienates her from many nobles.

"Then there is Major General Vandergeld. He fought in the Emblem of Blood, earning his way through the ranks, and the Emperor elevated him to a Margrave for his service. He's been busy stabilizing the Areas in Cornelia's wake and has years of experience. Unlike Cornelia, he is a fan of lavish parties and an excellent politician."

Tohdoh paused, looking off into the distant.

"Then there's Zero," Suzaku whispered, addressing the elephant in the room.

His exploits were constantly praised in the news. He was the rising star of Britannia. The man who defeated the Count where all else had failed. To face Zero, meant defeat .

"Then there's Zero," Tohdoh repeated, sighing. "Hopefully, he'll be kept busy with Area Six for a while. So far, he hasn't crossed the ocean to deal with the island territories. Unfortunately, we don't know enough about him. He has E.U. intelligence frothing with his proclivity to capture their agents. Unlike Cornelia or Vandergeld, his tactics don't rely on overwhelming force or knightmares. He also minimizes civilians casualties for Brits and Numbers."

"That's good, right?" Suzaku asked, because Tohdoh didn't look pleased at the last bit.

"Yes... But it renders a lot of our own tactics useless. He clearly learned from the Count's tendency to publicize everything. We can't sow dissension among the Brits, if he does nothing wrong. And given his track record, nobody will accuse him of being weak. The Emperor sends him into the most volatile situations and to hunt down powerful nobles abusing their power. He's the scalpel. When he leaves, the region is often better off than it began."

Tohdoh massaged his temples. "We can predict Cornelia and Vandergeld. We don't even know how old Zero is. The Emperor keeps everything about Zero incredibly quiet. While we may know he's in an Area, we won't know where specifically until the news reports it or months after the fact. The few meager scraps of information we receive are at times contradictory. If it weren't for first hand accounts from Halifax, I'd say Zero is merely propaganda."

"The most dangerous enemy is the one you don't know," Suzaku realized.

"Which is why, if Zero comes here, the E.U. has agreed to help us assassinate him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- Sometimes, writing leads to the strangest (and disturbing) rabbit holes. I wanted to determine how Mr. Cameron's death would be perceived, which led to this rather disturbing historical tidbit about the UK: Until 1961, suicide was criminalized in the UK and family members could be prosecuted as well. The family forfeiture of the deceased's property was technically legal until 1870. Until 1823, a jury could deny the deceased the right to be buried in a graveyard, even then, religious rites weren't allowed to be observed until 1882. Britannia never repealed/amended most of these laws unlike the UK.
> 
> \- Okinawa is the largest island of the Ryukyu archipelago and south of Japan. It's location has earned it the nickname as the "Keystone of the Pacific" and makes it a tantalizing military target. Nowadays, it's part of Japan and hosts controversial military bases which belong to the U.S.
> 
> \- Because I'm fixating on this, bowing again: In the anime, when Suzaku first meets Euphie and goes on his "date," he uses a logical bow, with his right arm crossed over his chest. But when she's revealed as a princess, he does the weird right hand behind the back thing. Does this mean that it's culturally acceptable to assassinate a noble/royal? Why is it not consistent?
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> I hope the "Suzaku learns geopolitics" portion was alright. Technically, it's a glorified info-dump which makes me nervous. And, despite its length, it only skims the surface. So hopefully it wasn't too boring, confusing, or patronizing.
> 
> Don't worry, Lelouch will return next chapter.
> 
> Apparently "after Christmas" means just several hours later than usual because I was busy. Surprise! Merry Christmas, slightly belated, to all of you. You get an unusually long chapter as a gift.
> 
> I will be returning to every other week scheduled updates. Maybe I'll finish some one-shots in-between, before I need an exorcist to deal with all my plot bunnies.
> 
> See you in the new year. Gift me a review on your way out? :)
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj  
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing. Additional thanks to Curious Beats for reviewing my military stuff.


	7. We Need to Talk About His Highness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Lelouch, General Smilas, and Schneizel are all scheming in Australia. Frederick is meanwhile having a family reunion with the daughter of a traitor. In Japan, Naoto has turned to terrorism, so he can help Kallen.
> 
> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur

_Because the reordering of a city for a political way of life presupposes a good man, and becoming prince of a republic by violence presupposes a bad man, one will find that it very rarely happens that someone good wishes to become prince by bad ways, even though his end be good, and that someone wicked, having become prince, wishes to work well, and that it will ever occur to his mind to use well the authority that he has acquired badly._

— _Discourses on Livy, I 18, by Niccolo Machiavelli, translated by Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov_

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

On top of the counter, Lelouch's phone buzzed as he finished straining the pasta. The sauce sizzled on the stove, filling the room with an enticing aroma. Finally, he had some sweet respite from his siblings.

Guinevere was busy arguing over the color of the draperies with Clovis as she made the final preparations for the banquet. Schneizel had begun the monthly security check which would keep him out of Lelouch's hair and unable to offload the next report on salmon farming and sea lice on him.

After the banquet, Lelouch could finally escape from his family's tender clutches for a week. Roy's wedding would be a welcome reprieve from the endless scheming and barbs hidden by rosy words. While the embassy was undoubtedly safer, he felt more secure surrounded by his men. If he was lucky, he wouldn't be returning here.

Scowling, Henry accepted the plate. "Frederick says he is held up."

And the E.U. was so graciously nibbling on the bait. Unfortunately...

"He's running around with some girl from the French embassy. She's using him to get to you," Henry argued.

Someone was liable to the spring the trap before the final pieces were in place.

"Do you truly think Frederick would betray me?" Lelouch asked, genuinely curious. Edgar had died for him, and Frederick was determined to never let that sacrifice be in vain.

Honestly, both of his guards hovered too much, despite having very different ideas on how to keep him safe.

"Not on purpose," Henry said, avoiding eye contact. "But people make foolish mistakes in the name of love. It'd be better to keep Frederick at your side to prevent... conflicted feelings."

"If I send you to do the groceries, you'll get into a fist fight when someone inevitably insults the Emperor. That reflects badly on me." Lelouch finished cleaning the kitchen and picked up his own plate. "I'm not going to punish Frederick based on some meager hunch."

"You've investigated countless nobles and deliberately set traps for them based on a mere hunch."

"The difference being that I trust Frederick." Taking a bite of his pasta, he walked out the door. "Please stop harassing him. He's allowed a life outside of being my guard."

Henry grumbled incoherently, his footsteps ringing behind him. He would wait for now. Probably try to gather evidence to prove Frederick's wrong doing.

Another pair of footsteps brought them to a halt. Henry set his plate on the floor and walked in front of him, hand drifting to his gun. Lelouch once again keenly felt the absence of his own. A hidden knife was more appropriate for a prince, not a visible weapon suggesting he didn't trust his own security.

These were Lelouch's private suites; no one should be intruding.

Schneizel rounded the corner. Wishing the nosy bastard to be busy for one day was apparently too much to ask.

"I thought you were examining the security." Lelouch strode past him, continuing to his office. "Had you informed me of your intentions, I could have greeted you properly."

"This is part of my duties." Schneizel flashed a key card, yellow unlike the standard white. "You have been avoiding me."

"Henry, remind me to add an additional lock on the door," Lelouch ordered. He pushed his way into his office and grimaced at the overflowing desk.

"I was hoping to talk to you," Schneizel said. Ignoring propriety, he began rifling through the various items. He picked up a field journal and flipped through the pages. "What is this? It's filled with gibberish."

"A dictionary," Lelouch snapped, snatching it out of his hands. Occasionally, the division would stumble across an isolated community that had avoided Britannia's relocation efforts. While they used a pidgin version of English, communicating in one of the local tongues helped ease tensions. Since his job was to root out terrorists, he was happy to leave them be and invite them to contribute to his intelligence network. They knew the land better than Lelouch ever would. Or at least that was the justification he gave his parents. More honestly, "It's a hobby."

Schneizel raised an eyebrow and picked up a thank you letter he'd received. "Russian? Why do you even know Russian?"

"How else am I supposed to read Tolstoy?" Lelouch gestured to the bookshelf and the copy of _War and Peace_ his mother gifted him for his birthday. Despite their numerous disagreements, she did understand his reading preferences and even encouraged them at times.

"You could read a proper book in English," Schneizel said, wandering to the bookshelf. " _The Count of Monte Cristo_? _Critique of Pure Reason_? _Discourses on Livy_?" He pulled out the latter contemplatively. "This was banned under the Defense of the Realm Act of 1914. It's rather incendiary."

Which was terribly ironic, considering Machiavelli also wrote _The Prince—_ a cliché coming of age gift among the nobility.

"Fortunately, the law doesn't apply to us," Lelouch said. "I see no reason to limit my knowledge, when our enemies labor under no such restrictions."

Schneizel shook his head, sliding the book back in place. "No wonder you and Nunnally have such quaint ideas. Reality is not the idyllic paradise presented in books. There are only leaders, who accumulate power, and followers, forever destined to a life of servitude. Men cling to these promises and fables because they are ashamed of their nature. The ideas are merely a painful, insidious fiction, which they futilely try to attain. We can avoid much strife by preventing such dangerous thoughts from taking root in their minds."

"If Britannia succumbs to mere ideas, she is weak," Lelouch countered, anxiously tracking Schneizel browsing the bookcase. "When people struggle, they become greater for it."

"You overestimate mankind, dear brother. Only great men, who were already so, survive the challenges. A classic example of survivorship bias." Schneizel's finger paused on a skinny copy of _Common Sense_. "Really, Lelouch?"

"Legally acquired," Lelouch assured, wincing at the memory.

"Right," Schneizel said, long and drawn out. "Not acquired on your regular outings into Sydney? Is displaying this prominently some childish rebellion of yours? I hadn't thought you to be so foolish."

Once again, Lelouch was failing in his sibling's eyes. The lack of respect didn't bother him personally. He had cultivated his image of being nobody of note for years, but his father was pushing him further into the spotlight. Having his siblings perpetuate rumors of incompetence would lend them an air of credibility that would be hard to shake off. Worst case, his own achievements would be constantly doubted. Until he had found the appropriate mask, he needed to be unpredictable.

Unfortunately, that meant telling a rather embarrassing truth. Otherwise, Schenizel would see him as some radical—which Lelouch was—and be hesitant to work with him in the future.

"It would be disrespectful to discard the Emperor's gift," Lelouch said. At Schneizel's look of incomprehension, he elaborated, "I'm eighty percent sure, it was Father's idea of a joke. Or an elaborate ploy of reverse psychology that I have yet to unravel."

"Lelouch..." Schneizel rubbed his forehead. "Must you always tell such outrageous lies?"

Crossing his arms, Lelouch glared. "Father caught me trying to climb down the balcony. Two days afterwards, during Mother's annual attempt to celebrate Christmas, he handed it to me and said, I clearly need it." Lelouch had never felt more awkward holding the wrapped book in his hands. "I'm inclined to think those events are related for the sake of my sanity."

Schneizel's mouth parted, a meager gap betraying his shock. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the bookcase. "Father gave you a gift?"

"He hasn't asked of me anything in exchange, so yes?"

"And you tried to climb out the balc—" Schneizel shook his head. "Of course, you did. You staged an accident in an attempt to escape once. Not to mention your little incident with Miss Sumeragi. Your actions are quite foolhardy."

"I dislike parties," Lelouch said, disliking how petulant his words sounded. Before Schneizel, he felt like he was nine again and once again losing a chess game. Straightening, he gestured at the door. "Would you like to conclude your security check now? I do have work to do."

Schneizel scoffed. "I, for one, haven't assigned you any, and Guinevere banned you from assisting after the fifth time you _accidentally_ helped the servants. You have ample free time."

Actually, Lelouch was in fact, quite busy for once. He had revisions of the contract to go over, having confirmed a positive genetic test. The treaty also had a few extra stipulations his father wished to add. And he had numerous OSI files on the visiting foreign ambassadors to study. Fortunately, he had the foresight to hide them along with his letters to his friends. Schneizel's snooping would not have uncovered them.

"What do you want?" Lelouch growled, ending their charade.

Schneizel sank into the chair, and leaned forward, folding his hands together. His face relaxed, a polite smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "Would you care to enlighten me why I am apparently engaged in an erotic relationship with General Smilas?"

"You're not sleeping together?" Lelouch asked, widening his eyes in mock surprise. "But Guinev—"

"Oh, spare me. You and I both know she lacks the imagination for such an insidious rumor. I have been leaving you to your own devices while patching the gaps in your education. When Father inquired about your performance, I neglected to inform him of your little escapades into the city. What I fail to understand, Lelouch, is why you would spit on my generosity."

"If you're not sleeping with General Smilas, then why sneak into the embassy?" Lelouch retorted.

"How do you know that?" Schenizel asked, his face blanking.

Lelouch walked forward, stopping a hair short of his desk. He would not be intimidated within his own quarters. Schneizel should have denied the allegations, but he felt threatened which confirmed Lelouch's suspicions. His brother had been plotting with General Smilas. Probably, a treasonous plot.

"I did you a favor," Lelouch said. "When others discover your midnight visits, it will merely confirm the rumors. The reputation hit for consorting with a Frenchman is nothing compared to allegations of treason."

"Yet had you said nothing, no unwanted eyes would've been drawn to my outings."

Lelouch snorted. "Father's you mean? I'm sure he already knows." Especially because Henry had definitely tattled by now.

"If he had known, he would have censured me. Or did Father send you here to punish me?"

"You're doing that well enough without my help by dragging the negotiations out. The only reason Father stated for my presence here is that he wishes for you and Guinevere to cease stalling. And of course, Father has done nothing. He probably finds your scheming amusing."

Schneizel leaned back, tapping his finger on the arm rest and looking at him contemplatively. "So you informed Father?"

"No," Lelouch said, shrugging. "If he asks, I will be honest of course. But I have found the best policy is to assume he knows everything and plan accordingly." And it limited the amount of conversations between him and his father. "If he catches me in a falsehood, the punishment would be worse."

"So you always tell the truth, even if it will earn his displeasure?" Schneizel asked, brow furrowed.

"Last year, he asked me to investigate the possibility of a spy because the Kyoto House always seemed aware of any new regulations before they passed. I admitted to keeping Kaguya informed. He ordered me to attend most of the festivities of the season and assigned an additional guard to prevent any creative escape attempts." And called Henry in for a private audience, resulting in him being unusually cold and clinging to his side like an unwanted burr for months. Normally, he understood Lelouch's need for space or some privacy.

"Yet, had you said nothing, you could have escaped any consequences."

"But if he already knew, then the punishment would've been worse."

Schneizel stared at him, judgingly. Finally, he said, as if speaking to a particularly dimwitted child, "Father is not omniscient."

"He's the Emperor with an army of spies and assassins. There is no way to determine what he does _not_ know."

He titled his head back, observing the ceiling, and muttered, "If this is what it feels like, I owe Odysseus an overdue apology." Shaking his head, Schneizel leaned forward, exasperation replaced by cool calculation. "You are not a follower as much as you play the part. We are too similar. So tell me, what do you desire?"

"To live my life in peace," Lelouch said.

"I find that difficult to believe." Schneizel stood and walked around the desk, settling a hand on his shoulder. "You need only to ask, and I shall provide."

Lelouch jerked away from the gentle touch, his eyes reflexively darting to Henry standing uneasily in the corner. "I can give you my shopping list if you wish. Unless this isn't a gesture of goodwill from you, in which case, simply tell me what you want from me."

The hand settled on his shoulder again, this time gripping it tightly. "You should learn the moves to this dance, dear brother." Schneizel's smile didn't reach his eyes, which relentlessly bore into him. "You're right about being too young to realistically make a bid for the throne. But you are a leader, and there is room at my table. You may be young, but the future beckons."

Lelouch swallowed, the hand pinning him in place. He could step back, rip himself free from the domineering grip. Schneizel certainly didn't have the strength to stop him, but doing so would betray his unease. For a moment, he saw the Count standing before him, toying with a knife as she drew closer and smiling. Then, he had stood still to have a chance of survival. Now? He remained frozen, fighting against memories while trying to determine the cost of rejecting the offer.

First Guinevere, now Schneizel. Each trying to recruit him, not knowing he had already chosen to support Odysseus. His spoiled act was supposed to dissuade such thoughts, had for the last three years. But realizing the mask he so expertly crafted, his siblings now saw him as a potentially powerful piece. Exactly the kind of thoughts he wanted to dissuade. Those brimming with potential, but lacking power, died young.

He needed a new mask. And with horrifying clarity, he realized the one in reach. The idea sickened him, but technically it was a part he already played. He just needed to lean into it further. Pretend that the mere thought didn't make his stomach churn. It was necessary to buy him time, until he had the power needed to defend himself against his siblings' onslaught.

His hand trembled and he clenched it tightly before slowly relaxing and uncurling his fingers. Merely another mask. It didn't mean anything.

Chuckling, he tilted his head. "What is the rush, Schneizel? Father still has many years left. I can allow myself to enjoy the moment." He took a step forward, pushing down the urge to reaffirm his personal space. Closeness implied trust. "Besides, Father has chosen his heir. Until he decides otherwise, I will follow his lead."

"Everyone knows Odysseues will abdicate," Schneizel said, taking a step back.

"Then he'll be the Emperor, and I will follow whoever he decides." Lelouch frowned, looking to the side. "Mother talks often of the Emblem of Blood. Such bloody turmoil arises when we ignore the proper order of things. It's not my assistance you should be seeking but Father's. He likes people who prove their worth and rewards them accordingly. I trust his judgement."

"You don't even like him," Schneizel accused.

"But my purpose is to serve the Emperor and carry out his wishes. My personal feelings are immaterial." That was what Zero was: an agent of the Emperor. Lelouch already wore this mask, all he had to do was embrace it. He wasn't an active player in this game, because his father held his loyalty too securely. To sell the lie, he would need to hint at a reason. "I know quite well what happens to those who dare to think to move against Father. If your scheming crosses from amusing to annoying, Father will annihilate you."

"The paltry nobility and commoners must play to different rules, but I am his son and the Prime Minister. Father cannot afford to move against me." Schneizel paused, his eyes narrowing. "You truly cannot believe he would eliminate you should you displease him? He is still enamored with your mother."

Lelouch snorted. "Why people think that sentiment would extend to myself is beyond me. He probably won't kill me. It would upset my mother. But marry Nunnally off for political gain? Or myself? Or execute anyone I dare to associate with? We call him Father, yet he is first the Emperor. Then perhaps a husband. He favors my mother but sends her on missions she does not agree with despite her loud complaining. To expect sentiment to sway him from actions in service of the Empire is foolhardy."

"Lelouch..." Schneizel shook his head. "If you come to your senses, know that I will shield those pledged to my cause." Reaching out, he clasped his shoulder again, hard enough to bruise. "Time you have, but wait too long and I'll have to consider you my enemy. Oh, and the unsavory business with the embassy? You will keep your silence..." He smiled. "Unless, of course, Father asks you directly."

"Of course."

"And about the ball, I took the liberty of acquiring you appropriate attire. Black, of course, like everything else in your lackluster wardrobe. The tailor will arrive tomorrow to finish the adjustments. Kanon assures me they will be quick."

The threat was clear. His quarters weren't secure, and if Schneizel could acquire his measurements, he could just as easily assassinate him should Lelouch make a move against him.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Lelouch and Schneizel froze, heads slowly turning to gaze at the uninvited intruder. In the doorway, an unspeakable stood, wearing the typical heavy cloaks. She scanned the room with deliberate slowness and stepped inside. Why was she interfering? The unspeakables were always passive unless an emergency arose. At times, they resembled more empty shells than actual humans.

Yet, she stood there, looking at them. Then, breaking their general vow of absolute silence, she said, "Prince Schneizel. Prince Lelouch. This meeting wasn't scheduled."

Schneizel's grip briefly tightened, then he mechanically released his shoulder. Chuckling, he took a step back and ran his hand through Lelouch's hair. "You've grown, brother. It feels like just yesterday you were challenging me to chess matches in a desperate attempt to win. If you ever need me, I'm here."

With those parting words, he slipped past the unspeakable and finally left. The unspeakable nodded at him and withdrew, finally allowing Lelouch to relax.

"Your habit of sleeping on the floor and rotating rooms no longer seems so outrageous," Henry commented, stepping closer.

"Locks," Lelouch mumbled. He needed additional locks. And to sweep the entire suite for any other surprise gifts from his brother. Slowly, he turned to Henry, tearing his eyes from where the unspeakable had stood. "Why did she interfere?"

Henry shrugged. "Hell if I know."

They were so different. She, a walking corpse. Henry, brimming with restless energy. The stark contrast suddenly drove home how strange Henry was in comparison to every other unspeakable he had encountered. They were reactionary creatures, merely following orders to the letter. It had always made them easy to fool as a child. Henry was different, yet when he returned from those private meetings with his father, he too was empty.

"What does it mean? Being an unspeakable?" Lelouch asked. He had never broached the subject before, unwilling to upset the delicate balance between Henry and Frederick. If Frederick knew the truth, he would never forgive Henry for becoming their friend to satisfy orders.

Henry turned away. "Loyalty. My traitorous family had none. They sold me off to save their own skin and can rot in hell for all I care... Except my younger sister. She never did anything. The Emperor gave me a place to belong, and my service means Izzy got to study archeology."

Had his family truly abandoned him, or had the Emperor simply forced them too? Manipulating a young child would've been easy.

"And the others?"

"Most of the older generation is different. Many were traitors and lost their tongue." Henry sneered. "They deserved it. The rest of us are family. We're lucky," he finished without a hint of sarcasm. He truly believed they were blessed to be bound in eternal servitude.

"But you never did anything," Lelouch whispered. Henry, nor the others.

"Our families betrayed the Emperor," Henry said coldly. "His Majesty protects us, and they spat on his generosity. We were gifted the opportunity to express our gratitude. It's an honor. Only scum would speak ill of him."

Lelouch coughed awkwardly.

Glancing at him, Henry shook his head. "You're family. That's different."

It really wasn't. Lelouch was simply allowed more leeway with his words than the average citizen.

"You don't seem like the others."

Henry frowned. "I didn't finish training, but I can do my job."

"No..." Lelouch sighed. "The others feel more withdrawn. Or is that merely an act?"

"I'm too emotional," Henry grumbled, completely missing the point. "But the Emperor needed someone young, and I was the best at blending in with the commoners, so I was chosen."

To watch over Lelouch and report on him. To integrate himself in a group of young innocent teens. To do whatever was necessary to complete his mission.

Were they even friends?

"Is that what happens when you report to the Emperor? Training?" Lelouch guessed.

"No. He simply asks a few questions."

"My father hurts you," Lelouch hissed. The evidence was clear. Nothing normal would cause such a drastic personality change. "Yet you sing nothing but his praise."

Henry scowled. "He doesn't; he saved me. I know your relationship with him is strained, but don't drag me into it. I'm fine."

But he wasn't. Unfortunately, Lelouch lacked the power to help him.

* * *

**Outer Concessions, Tokyo, Area Eleven**

Red hair hidden under a cap, Naoto leaned against the wall and waited. Work at the hospital continued to climb as the Purists became bolder and deliberately antagonized the locals. According to Lord Ashford, they were trying to incite retaliation. Apparently, the Sixes were up in arms, and if the Japanese were to show similar uncontrollable behavior, the Purists would finally be able to argue for the abolishment of the Honorary Britannian system.

Wise, the JLF urged the local cells to keep their heads down and minimize casualties. Accompanied by that statement was a promise that they would finally take action by the end of the year.

Japan was finally fighting back. It was unbelievable.

Despite everything, he wanted to tell Kallen. Maybe this way, they could finally reconcile without Britannia's specter hanging over them and promising doom if they ever forgot their place. If she said no and, instead of joining him, clung to her Britannian roots, he would help ensure that she was safe in another Area long before the turmoil could commence.

As a doctor, he mourned the upcoming loss of life.

Fortunately for Japan and Naoto's vows of secrecy, Kallen had joined their father on a business trip to New York; he couldn't tell her a thing.

While Ohgi's group was independent, they heavily relied on the JLF's goodwill and supplies, forcing them to lie low and making their investigation contentious. Cells who disobeyed were cut off. The mystery of the medical supplies remained unsolved. If it hadn't been for Naoto noting that the amount of liquid nitrogen was enough to supply an entire hospital, they would have let it be.

It was suspicious, but Britannia often busied itself with strange projects. Prince Clovis's latest pursuit for the blackest black paint being one of many examples. Naoto had jokingly suggested that Clovis was experimenting with cryogenic sleep. Ohgi hadn't been amused.

In the dark shadows, he finally spotted two familiar forms and jogged over to them. Yoshida, the leader of their neighboring cell, scowled upon seeing him. "I'd feel better without the Brit, Ohgi. Can't be sure where his loyalties lie."

Flashing Naoto an apologetic smile, Ohgi said, "Trust me. Where we are going, we'll need all the help we can get. A Britannian might even put them at ease."

"Nothing happened at the safehouse, did it?" Naoto asked, wondering at the cause for the clandestine meeting.

Ohgi's eyes darted back and forth, before he patted his jacket. "Yoshida found something more sensitive and Tamaki..."

"Ah," Naoto said. Expecting Tamaki to keep his mouth shut was an exercise in futility. Had been since they were children and only gotten worse since.

"It's of interest to some local groups, but it's going to have to be a collaboration. We can't afford to make any enemies here, so keep your head down. They have some morals but don't care much for outsiders."

Naoto wasn't sure what he expected. Definitely not a karaoke bar. Inside, music blared as people, visibly armed, conversed around tables, their eyes watching them warily. The bartender swung between pouring drinks and handing out sheets of paper as cash exchanged their hands. Old arcade machines sat in the corner, and a group of children played familiar console games.

The scent of sake permeated the air, finishing the nostalgic picture and casting Naoto into the past. Japan's heart thrummed in this room.

Sighing, Ohgi fished out his wallet and carefully counted the bills as the bouncer scowled fiercely.

Mingled among the Japanese was a surprising number of Britannians laughing boisterously or hunched over the corner tables. A blond one departed from a table, and as he passed the group of children, tossed a few coins their way. The eager rascals descended, and Naoto swore he saw the man smile, before he hefted his briefcase onto the bar counter.

"This place is strictly neutral," Ohgi whispered. "Used to teach here in the daylight... But when they found out about our mutual hobby, I had to leave. The owner,"—he nodded at the bartender who had pulled out a thick book and was pouring over it with a pencil as the Britannian man watched—"had to have worked for some major corporation before the invasion. Way too familiar with Britannian practices, but he's an invaluable resource and incredibly invested in helping the local community. He helps the local gangs run as a legitimate business and, in return, they follow his handful of rules."

"Who you here for?" the bouncer asked, flipping through the generous wad of cash.

"Who's in charge of the docks?" Ohgi asked.

The bouncer gestured to an empty table in the corner. After a polite bow to express their thanks, the bouncer finally let them proceed. Naoto shivered at the eyes boring into his back as they waded through the sea of laughing children, boisterous teenagers, and armed men. A few uniformed men, clearly guards, hung around the room, ready to intervene.

It was a strange sight to behold. Natural enemies conversing like old friends. A little oasis of happiness where none dared to disturb the peace. Speculatively, Naoto observed the barman. He had none of the refined grace of the old Japanese families yet managed to build this sanctuary.

Recalling the steep entrance fee, Naoto asked, "How do people afford going here?"

"We're outsiders," Ohgi grumbled. "We don't pay any protection fees to the allied gangs, so we have to pay extra. As long as the kids behave, they are allowed in free of charge. The owner has a bit of a soft spot for them. The leftovers are handed out in the morning to the kids. A friend of his also helps the older ones find a job."

Japan was stronger than Naoto imagined. He hadn't heard of anything like this. His Britannian blood excluded him from these underground networks. At the hospital clinic, he had seen so many teenagers, lost and succumbing to addiction. They cycled through the door, and Naoto despaired as each one was released, unable to do anything more.

He didn't know what was worse. Seeing the same faces again and again, steadily getting worse. Or never again, wondering if they turned their life around or had died on the streets. After their meeting, Naoto should talk to the owner. Beg him for permission to recommend youths his way.

"Too smarmy with the Brits for my taste," Yoshida hissed. "Most of them are Honorary Britannians. Bunch of sellouts."

"You assholes again?" A lumbering man asked. The table shook as he sat down. "I'd thought you knew terrorists, sorry, resistance fighters, are not welcome here. I have half the mind to cut you both off. Save myself a massive headache."

Ohgi let out a long suffering sigh and pulled out an envelope. "Trust me, Brian. If I had a choice, I'd avoid your ugly mug like the plague. Unfortunately, we have this and you took charge of the docks."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Important enough for you to drag Yoshida along." Naoto resisted the urge to squirm as the hard gaze swung his way. "I don't like doing business with strangers. Although I must say, you must truly be desperate if you're associating with Brits. The world might be ending."

Naoto inclined his head and extended his hand. "Naoto Kozuki. Or Nathan Walker among Britannians. I work at the Tokyo Memorial Hospital. Ohgi and I are old friends."

"And how many times do they accuse you of being a spy?"

"I also assist Lord Ashford at his behest. The concern is valid." Naoto shrugged to hide how uneasy those accusations made him. They would never fully trust him. He had resigned himself to it, but it still hurt. "If they're paranoia keeps them alive, I can't fault them for it."

Brightening, Brian leaned back and loudly declared, "Oh, you're Lelouch's doctor friend."

Heads swiveled their way and the background noise briefly quieted.

"Who?" Ohgi whispered.

"A soldier who volunteers at the hospital when he's visiting." Naoto stared at the man whose previous dour expression had evaporated. "How do you know him?"

"I owe him a favor," Brian said, grabbing the envelope. "Congratulations, Ohgi. You've earned yourself an audience."

Naoto frowned. "I'm doubtful Lelouch would consort with a criminal such as yourself. Despite picking fights with the Knight Police, he has sworn to uphold the law, and he's not one to forsake his oaths easily. If you think helping me will give you some leverage over him..."

"Paranoid, aren't you?" He snorted. "And I wouldn't expect his friend to be consorting with terrorists. Yet, here we are. Makes me mighty curious. He's not one to trust easily, so this,"—he waved the envelope—"has to be mighty important. It's not about a movie star, is it?"

Shoving aside his confusion, Naoto glared. "You still haven't explained how you know each other."

"Remember about a year and a half ago? Refrain was flooding the streets and causing all of us a big headache. Nasty stuff. Ban,"—he gestured at the bartender who was now taking a break, reading a newspaper, a few booths down—"has a few rules we follow in exchange for his help. Minor stuff really. No trafficking. No terrorism..." Brian glared pointedly. "And absolutely no Refrain."

Refrain...

Naoto swallowed, remembering the sudden tidal wave of cases that assaulted the hospital. The patients, simple husks of people, would come in complaining of crippling headaches, intermittent paralysis, or vision problems. At first, the patients had trickled in. Each treated independently. They noticed an uptick of heart attacks among the Japanese and low-income Britannians but thought nothing of it. Foolish in hindsight.

As the weeks progressed, the cases began to rise. Patients who were getting better would fall into unexpected comas. Others would stare into the abyss, their pupils dilated and tracking things only they could see. They would run crippling fevers that pointed to an infection, yet their white blood cell count was low. Delirious, some admitted to using Refrain. Most kept silent, well aware that if they admitted to using, they faced harsh fines and lengthy prison sentences. And their blood work was clean.

It couldn't be Refrain; they would have found it.

Of course, the Knight Police didn't care for their opinion. Some had admitted it. Their symptoms matched. Instead of receiving care, they were arrested.

Naoto had been working the clinic and distracting himself from the depressing madness upstairs, when Lelouch stormed in, took one look at the young girl, and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a red injection site. She pulled away frantically, cradling her arm, and cowered in the corner, wobbling unsteadily.

"There's an investigator in the lobby. Give her a mild tranquilizer. It will suppress her symptoms, and you can write the rest off as a bad cold. Be careful though, it will stay in her system longer," he had ordered. "And under no circumstances, give her any pain killers. It could knock her into a coma."

Then, he stormed out, leaving Frederick to hastily apologize before rushing after him. It was the first time he had seen Lelouch genuinely angry. Two hours later, the investigator left the hospital, quaking in his issued boots. Cindy swore that he had bawled like a newborn baby after Lelouch finally allowed him to escape.

After weeks of stress, the hospital felt unusually calm in Lelouch's wake. With a nurse, he had left a list of possible ailments their patients could be suffering from instead of Refrain addiction. _Such a widespread affliction,_ he wrote _, can only be due to a mighty foe that plagues every glorious Empire. A mere drug problem would have long been conquered by Britannia's loyal servants._

It was the only time he had seen Lelouch blatantly shrug off the mantle of plausible deniability. For a moment, he had seen the soldier as rage shattered his veneer of civility. But the soldier who vowed to serve Britannia loyalty didn't deliver them to the Knight Police's justice. Instead, he cast the law he swore to upheld aside, and grasped human compassion.

All because of Refrain...

"Were you the one to shoot him?" Naoto asked, remembering the week-long absence ended by Frederick dragging Lelouch into the clinic and asking for his help. The stitches had been a hasty patch job. When Naoto noted that it had become infected, Frederick spent the hour calling his friend a reckless idiot in increasingly creative ways.

Brian winced. "No, but Henry tried to shoot me because of it. He really doesn't like me. If they ever find my body in a ditch, it's probably 'cause he did me in. I was investigating. Lelouch was investigating. Both of us have trigger-happy morons. Accidents happen." He shrugged, as if it were to be expected. "We knew who was at fault but couldn't do anything. So I thought what the hell and told the kid. No idea how he did it, but he disappears for two days, comes back and asks me to inform him if there's any more trouble.

"I thought he was insane. A few hours later, one of my runners says the lord was arrested. Not for Refrain, but tax fraud. Didn't think it would do much. Apparently, tax evasion is serious business. He had investigators crawling up his ass for months. Every week, they were uncovering another dirty secret. Had it just been Refrain... he'd have paid a hefty fine and walked free. Especially, 'cause he was a Purists and the courts are in their pockets. Lelouch utterly ruined him."

"He always struck me as thorough," Naoto said, feeling faint. The entire affair had been long and drawn out. Every detail leaked to the media, who had a field day dragging the lord's name and his family through the mud. Every time the investigation seemed to slow, new allegations popped up. Lord Ashford claimed it would've been kinder to execute him.

Chuckling, Brian accepted a drink from the bartender. "A couple months later, he finds me again and asks where to buy some kabocha and if I know a cheap place to stay, where he won't get murdered in the night. Didn't ask for anything more and, despite being a soldier, he's friendly enough with everyone. Definitely better company than you sorry lots," he said, gesturing at Ohgi and Yoshida. The two bristled. "And an adequate cook."

"The sell-out is best friends with a Brit soldier," Yoshida drawled. "How original."

Brian stiffened but opened the envelope, scattering photos across the table. His eyes widened. "What kind of shit did you run into?"

"Britannian shit," Yoshida answered grimly, his hostility fading away at the sight of mutilated corpses, each one in a different state of decay. Most disturbing were the deliberate incisions, eerily reminiscent of the autopsies Naoto assisted with in his training. "There's some secret military base we've been keeping an eye on. I followed one of the plain old white vans the day before yesterday." Grimacing, he pointed at a photo of a young teen, burnt but still recognizable. "They dumped them into the docks. Called Ohgi and we poked around, finding even more."

"The injuries are different," Naoto whispered, scanning the corpses. He needed to be clinical. This was simply another exercise with unnamed patients, not a travesty of humanity. "They're all Japanese?"

"Yes," Ohgi whispered. "At least the best we can tell. Tamaki spotted General Bartley yesterday there. This... It's Prince Clovis's orders."

"I may hate him, but he doesn't have the guts," Yoshida said. "He's the reclusive artist type. I bet he'd faint at the sight of blood."

"Prince Clovis is sure pissing off everyone, huh?" Brian pushed away his drink, then the photos. "He assassinated Andrew Cameron. Had it staged like a suicide and everything. Should hit the news soon."

"The movie star?" Naoto asked. "I thought he died years ago. Simply disappeared."

"Nah, an accident paralyzed his lower legs. Him trying to act pissed Clovis off enough to get him killed." Brian shrugged, leaning back. "I need to check with Ban. Would feel like shit doing nothing. They all came from somewhere and to die like that? We protect the community, but if Clovis catches wind of us poking about his business, it'll bring heat down upon all of us."

"We need a distraction," Naoto said, stomach churning as he noticed the gruesome boils. A skin irritant. Were they testing a new weapon? Or had they merely discovered a black ops site used for interrogation? "Clovis will want to keep this quiet. It ruins his benevolent image."

Brian extended his arm, flashing a hand signal. "I might have a way to make Clovis uncomfortable for a few weeks."

The bartender and owner, Ban, dropped into the seat across from them. "You usually don't entertain these troublemakers, Brian." Silently, Brian pushed the photos to him. "Britannia," Ban said tiredly, "always finding new ways to surprise you in its depravity."

"You were in the army. Any insights?" Brian asked.

Next to Naoto, Ohgi and Yoshida stiffened. Soldiers rarely returned from the army. The few that did, people whispered were spies.

"Some power sick lunatic is behind it. It's different when it's a single person instead of a large group. There was a case we ran across. Some lord lured ladies into his home with honeyed words, of if they refused, force. The locals knew for years, but none of the other lords listened. It wasn't until our commander got wind of it that he was finally investigated and tried." Ban turned to Naoto. "You're with Lord Asfhord? He seems like the right sort. Tell him and he'll take it off our hands. Otherwise, many of us will die."

"Can't," Brian interrupted, before Naoto could speak. "It's Clovis."

"That... complicates things."

"Lord Ashford is close to the Empress Marianne," Naoto suggested. "He could raise the issue with the Emperor."

Ban shook his head. "He's definitely ordered worse. Maybe even had Prince Clovis run this."

"I know you don't want to give the army an excuse to come here—" Brian said.

"Not the army. This gets out, we'll have rioting in the street, and the Emperor will send in Zero. The JLF doesn't stand a chance."

"I think that's unfair," Ohgi said. "Zero is merely one commander, and the JLF has been preparing for years. We know the land; Zero doesn't."

Ban stared at them through half-lidded eyes. "Trust me. Anyone but Zero, I'd give you a fighting chance. Zero is a different type of beast."

Sneering, Yoshida leaned forward. "And you're such an expert?"

"Soldiers talk," Ban said slowly. "There's always a kernel of truth somewhere. You don't get those sort of rumors without being the best. I keep you troublemakers out of our hair for a reason. Small stuff, a broken law here and there, is fine. Anything bigger, we'll be obliterated, all of us deemed guilty."

"But can you ignore this?" Naoto asked urgently, seeing the window closing. They needed Brian's assistance to thoroughly investigate the docks. And for that, they had to convince this unassuming middle-aged man. "I'm here because I'm doing what's right. It'd be easier and safer to return to my life, ignoring all this. But what type of person would I be if I cast aside my beliefs for fear of the consequences? Or do you think Britannia has the right to dishonor our people?"

Ban pulled out a worn piece of paper from his jacket, running his finger along the edge, before tucking it away once more. When their eyes met again, his gaze was hard. "You're right. But your group will follow my rules."

It was a tentative alliance. Two Japanese resistance cells, two Honorary Britannians and their network of criminals, and one half-Britannian with connections to nobility. Most of their people hated each other on principle. But if any revolutions for Japan were to succeed, they needed to bridge these gaps. For Naoto, it gave him hope but also threatened to shatter his dream should they fail.

And as he had suggested, there was always the option of cluing in Lord Ashford.

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

Tired, Leila sat down in General Smilas's office and flipped through her notes. Jeanne was busy with Frederick, and to avoid suspicion, she had moved out of the embassy and into a small nearby apartment. Their investment was paying off nicely, but not well enough. Jeanne was anxious about manipulating a family member, and Frederick remained wary and guarded.

General Smilas had entrusted this mission to Leila. She couldn't fail him. This would finally lay to rest the persistent whispers from above that she would betray them for Britannia. Sometimes, she thought her countrymen were exactly like the Brits. Both blind by their vaunted superiority. But the E.U. was a better nation. Everyone had a voice, unlike Britannia which ruled from above without mercy and ignored the right of individual sovereignty.

General Smilas shut the door, throwing the newspaper announcing the Secretary of Defense's resignation on his desk, and sat across from her. "Any progress with the guard?"

"Not really. He distrusts us, so I've been keeping my distance in hopes of easing his mind. I don't think it's working," she said, angered at having made so little progress.

"We have enough leverage to enforce his compliance if necessary. Regardless, his wariness is good. It decreases the chance that this is a trap. I wouldn't put it past Prince Lelouch to play mind games with us. Speaking of which,"—he glared—"I thought I told you to keep your distance from him."

"We merely run into each other. He frequents one of the gentleman clubs and invites me to a game of chess. It would be impolite to refuse."

"You should. Every moment you spend in his company, he's analyzing you and searching for weaknesses. Do you have any idea of what his mother is capable of?"

"It's unfair to judge him for his parents," Leila countered. "Unlike his siblings, he's actually respectful and doesn't look down on us. He's well... normal."

General Smilas groaned and opened a drawer, pulling out a silver flask. "Royals are never normal. For every moment in their life, they are taught they are superior. Even Prince Odysseus, the one the Brits think is normal, has an impressive track record. At fourteen, he became the Minister of Agriculture. He managed to keep the nobles from tearing each other's throats out at the end of the Emblem of Blood. Additionally, he was pushing through humanitarian projects without alerting anyone."

"Isn't he called the Mediocre Prince?" Leila asked. "He probably had help. It's not like the Emperor would let his first-born son fail."

"Have you heard of the Fourth Prince, Antoninus ni Britannia? He imagined himself as the next great military genius. When attending the Imperial Academy, he proved himself highly intelligent and rumors of his prowess reached even our ears. Upon his graduation, the Emperor made him a Major General, and he accompanied Empress Marianne in establishing Area Nine. There, he found moderate success, only to fail at the very end of the campaign. We suspected sabotage from one of his siblings. What did the Emperor do?"

Leila frowned, trying to remember the name. Area Nine was established before her parents' demise, but her classes never covered the conquest in any depth. Their focus had always been more on Area Six and the failed invasion of 1993 when the E.U. and China attempted to take advantage of Britnania's Civil War. Emperor Charles had briefly called a truce with Emperor Brandon to violently expel them.

"Nothing?" Leila guessed.

"Worse." General Smilas grimaced. "He told his son to beg for forgiveness. Prince Antoninus believed himself infallible so refused and accused Empress Marianne of sabotaging his efforts. Afterwards, rumors of him embezzling money began to circulate. The Emperor did nothing for months, allowing his son's reputation to be completely destroyed. Only then, did he speak up to confirm the rumors and announce his arrest. The Emperor thanked the citizens for their vigilance and turned it into an opportunity to promote Social Darwinism."

She knew the Emperor was cruel. One only had to look at the conquered territories. Or open the Sunday newspaper where his gluttonous caricature spouted hateful rhetoric. Family was important though. She could rationalize his actions to the territories because he didn't see them worthy of being treated with respect. But to throw his own child to the wolves for political gain took a special form of savagery.

"He's the most likely candidate for Zero," General Smilas continued. "Time has dulled memories, but it's far safer for him to be of use, hidden behind a mask. The Emperor must dangle the hope of forgiveness before him. Not that he will ever grant it, Prince Antonious has a permanent stain on his record."

"Does he treat all his children with such callous disregard?" she asked.

"They all do. Siblings sabotage each other to gain the Emperor's favor. Normal does not survive in that family. A decent number of them are insane. Prince Odysseus is one of the few honest ones, but his main job is to keep his siblings from assassinating another. I don't know how he manages navigating that minefield, especially because they all hunger for his spot." General Smilas shook his head tiredly. "Your _friend_ knows how to appear normal which makes him even more dangerous."

"Or do you believe that because Empress Marianne is his mother?" she asked. His paranoia was ridiculous. He had no proof to back up his claims. "I know Frederick genuinely likes him to the point of considering him a friend."

General Smilas scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. A prince would never consider a commoner a friend."

Leila frowned. "His mother was a commoner. She might have brought him up differently."

"She wanted nothing more than power. If she could forget her heritage, she would," he said. "I doubt she deprived the boy of a royal education and everything that entailed."

"You're being paranoid." She crossed her arms. "He cooks regularly, judging from Frederick's frequent grocery runs, and nobles consider that beneath them. The only complaint Frederick ever has is that Prince Lelouch regularly forgets to write his shopping list in English. Jeanne took a photo of it once because she couldn't believe it. There were six different languages there. Last week, we had a discussion on Marxism. None of that paints the picture of some stuck-up prince who believes in Britannia's ideology."

General Smilas pulled out a file and began rapidly flipping through it. "Still not normal. Have you noticed he never eats or drinks anything he hasn't brought himself? Or positions himself so he has a clear view of any nearby windows or doors? Empress Marianne was supposedly crippled in an assassination attempt. It looks like she wasn't the only one targeted, perhaps explaining his reclusive nature. Still, he had to have been hiding somewhere..." His brow furrowed. "He accepts food from Frederick."

He rushed out of the room, only to return with a much larger file. Clearing off the desk, he pushed Frederick's file into her hands. Curious, she opened it. Surveillance photos from afar tracked him throughout the city. In a few, Prince Lelouch, wearing incredibly casual clothes, joined him. The reports accompanying these photos were noticeably thicker, tracking their route in great detail.

The surveillance team suspected Prince Lelouch of having a gambling problem. Which was fair; she had seen him in a casino. Again, it wasn't a very princely past time.

General Smilas set down the folder focusing on Prince Lelouch and leaned back, crossing his arms and observing the ceiling. "Did either of them give a hint as to how they met?"

"No," she said.

Instead of being disappointed, General Smilas, his eyes wide, straightened. "That's interesting. Most Brits would love to boast or moan about how they caught the attention of a royal. A commoner soldier from a family with defectors becoming a member of Prince Lelouch's royal guard? He would have had to impress him a great deal."

Leila narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "Frederick's family can't travel freely, so unless Prince Lelouch visited a town in the middle of nowhere, he would have met Frederick when he was in the army."

"Exactly. The question then is what a young prince was doing near military operations." General Smilas paused. "It would be so much easier if we knew how long Frederick has been his guard, but his family still thinks he is in the army..."

"Yet, they know each other well," Leila said. Their arrangement couldn't be a recent development. Frederick was too relaxed around him and accustomed to his quirks. Slowly, she flipped to the end where Jeanne had submitted copies of every letter she had received.

"Perhaps Marianne took him along, but the media loves to hound her. It's unlikely they would never have caught sight of him."

"Lord Ashford perhaps?" Leila suggested, scanning the letters for an anomaly. "He was her sponsor and runs a school. It'd be an ideal place to hide someone."

"He's too acclimated to military behavior to be a school boy. It's subtle, but neither of his elder siblings are comfortable with our mannerisms. Even when I exaggerate them, Prince Lelouch is unfazed."

A photo slid out of one of the letters and Leia smiled as she saw Frederick, easily recognizable, hanging off another boy. Beside him was the other guard... Henry. While the face was more gaunt now and he had grown into his oversized limbs, his scowl was instantly recognizable. He was from the army as well? Curious, she glanced at the other members, wondering where they were now. Under the glare of an elder, prim teen, two young boys sulked at the edge of the frame. Unlike the rest of the group, their clothes were ruffled and their faces, hidden.

Leila set the photo aside and reached for the accompanying letter. Inside, she found yet another photo. This time, a more proper group picture. Each stood at formal attention, directly facing the camera. The younger two had pulled down their caps, casting their faces into the shadow. Clearly, camera shy. She smiled, reminded of her own childhood and evading her father's relentless clicking camera.

General Smilas took another sip from the flask. "I'd say he was military, but we would've heard of it. The other officers would've been incessant gossips about another royal joining their ranks."

"Possibly under a different name?" Leila suggested.

He snorted. "Maybe it'd fool the lower nobility but not anyone of importance. They'd recognize another royal in their midst. Regardless, a royal would never act like someone beneath them. They breathe superiority. Have you seen the picture of Princess Cornelia and Sir Guilford's recent attempt at going out incognito?"

Leila chuckled, withdrawing the surveillance photos again. "She looked like a fish out of water."

"I've never seen anyone more uncomfortable; her knight was barely any better." He shook his head. "Nobody informed them. Too afraid, I imagine, but apparently they were calling everyone commoners and kept wiping their hands on a silk handkerchief after touching anything. Without their titles, the Brits wouldn't last a day in the normal world."

"People don't recognize Prince Lelouch though," she said. "His face is plastered on every gossip rag, yet he still manages to go incognito. Two days ago, I stumbled upon him and his guards at the kiosk two blocks down. Ms. Wallis stocks gossip rags, but she was standing there laughing at a joke. She looked so horrified when she found out."

"He slipped. A few mere minutes is merely a novelty. It's probably a game for him."

Leila shook her head. "Ms. Wallis was selling some... unflattering caricatures. Frederick revealed his identity to prevent him from buying them all."

"Please tell me she's left the city, better yet, the country," General Smilas begged. "We have enough cartoonists mysteriously falling ill. What was she thinking?"

"Of course, I insisted." She wasn't an idiot. The royal family zealously guarded their public image. "But Prince Lelouch apparently found them hilarious. He's... different."

At General Smilas's condescending look, she lowered her head and pursed her lips. He was blinded by prejudice, discarding evidence because it defied his beliefs. Her eyes wandered over to the group photo, unable to shake the feeling she was missing something. If only he could see Prince Lelouch was not just a royal.

"If you let your guard down for a moment, he will destroy you, Leila," he said gently. "He's playing you."

Retort dying on her tongue, she at last registered the young boy's damning purple eyes. It couldn't be. Frederick had enlisted. This was his squadron from Basic. That shade of purple... Nothing else suggested they were the same. Prince Lelouch, while often relaxed, always carried himself with refined grace befitting of a royal. His minimalist outfits were well put together. His blond hair, always smoothly combed. Every moment in his presence demanded to be remembered. The boy though, he slouched and faded into the background. Unremarkable, submissive, and unkempt.

That couldn't be Prince Lelouch. But that was Frederick, and by his side, Henry. Hadn't she just argued Prince Lelouch could pass as someone else?

Hands trembling, she passed the picture to General Smilas. "The young boy on the right. Look familiar?"

General Smilas leaned over the desk, grabbing the picture. His eyebrows drew together, and he grimaced. "The other guard is in here too."

"The boy has purple eyes."

"She would never—" General Smilas groaned. "Of course, she would. She's insane, perfect for the family she married into. Having her son enlist?"

Heart pounding, Leila scooted closer and glanced at the image. He looked so... different. Was it merely growing up that had rendered his younger self unrecognizable? "Are you sure it's him?"

"Eliminate the possible... " Wincing, he drained the flask. "I can't believe— For Prince Lelouch's first assignment in the public eye, the Emperor sends him out of the country but doesn't assign him a proper role. He hasn't made any attempt to become closer to his siblings, rather he embraces activities they shun. If the Emperor sent him to spy on them, he is doing a poor job."

Finally, General Smilas was beginning to understand what Leila had deduced. She would even go as far to say he had no interest in upholding royal traditions. If he had spent years enlisted as a common soldier, before finally withdrawing to become an ambassador, then he would understand the plight of the common man. Perhaps he even saw how Britannia's very institution was corrupt.

"Empress Marianne grows ever more popular," General Smilas said. "Both of her children are lucrative targets. No noble would ever consider searching for him in the enlisted ranks. Even our own people never considered the possibility. And when it was too suspicious for him to remain hidden, the Emperor sent him out of the country to a secure location where assassins would struggle to reach him."

His face twisted. "Putain de merde! Bloody Marianne's son is a damn military brat. We need to move forward with Frederick after the banquet, whether he is ready or not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -As to Lelouch's bookshelf: Common Sense by Thomas Paine is an incredibly influential pamphlet published at the beginning of the American Revolution arguing for democracy. Most notably, it's incredibly critical of the king and absolute monarchies. Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant is the first of his three critiques and precedes his two books on morals. This one lays the groundwork of his thought process and the idea that there can exist knowledge independent of experience, a revolutionary idea at the time. Kantian philosophy is also the basis upon which Marxism is built along with Hegel. Most people know Machiavelli for The Prince and throwing morality out the window. His other work, Discourses on Livy, is radically different, offering instead an argument for why republics are superior and why principalities were doomed to ultimately fail. It also suggests revolutions are necessary.
> 
> -Free Speech: Britannia clearly doesn't have it in my fic, despite the anime having a character claim otherwise (yet the anime shows evidence to the contrary with how Diethard was demoted). A common tactic in modern successful dictatorship is to give the illusion of freedom speech by disapproving or burying unwanted news. Or, in more extreme cases, having journalists take a surprise vacation to be reeducated or killed. Whether the E.U. protects free speech is debatable. Napoleon took extreme measures to limit the freedom of press. So there is a good chance that the E.U. does not have a constitutional right to freedom of speech and the press.
> 
> -The entire Geass Order reeks of human experimentation personally, so I really don't think the Emperor would care about Clovis's secret project were it not for C.C. This brings up the question whether Clovis knew C.C. was important to him, or if he thought the human experimentation part would get him disinherited.
> 
> Author's Note
> 
> Hello, 2021...
> 
> Lelouch's plan is about complete. I've sprinkled in a few clues, but I'm unsure how many people spotted them. Hopefully everyone has a vague sense of what it entails, or maybe it'll catch you by surprise. Regardless, feel free to speculate. Once it's complete, most of it will be explained.
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj  
> Thank you x1tears1X and on FFN for your help with betaing


	8. The Board is Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Leila and Lelouch have both been plotting with Frederick caught in their midst. Nunnally made a deal with Brian, a gang lord, to gain information on Mr. Cameron’s death, so she can make Clovis pay.

_Tonight, United East Africa, our long time ally, will formally surrender as overseen by all other nations. While we have watched for years Britannia's relentless expansion, this occasion brings forth ever increasing uncertainty. Some political analysts warn that Britannia's ambitions will soon focus on us. The MEF is in a unique geographical position which allows us to control the majority of trade between the E.U. and Chinese Federation. As Britannia expanded into Southeast Asia then Southern Africa, our nation's importance grew. With the establishment of Area FIfteen, Britannia now controls the maritime silk road through the port of Djibouti. The silk road remains the only other major trade route outside of Britannia’s dominion and is entirely under MEF control. Power has shifted from the French and Chinese to our hands. They cannot afford our displeasure._

_To ensure its survival, the MEF must put aside pride and negotiate with all of our neighbors, which unfortunately now includes Britannia. The MEF does not have the military strength to fend off the E.U., China, or Britannia should they invade. Their might was built by cannibalizing their colonies. And make no mistake, while the E.U. formally declared the end of colonization after the First Pacific War for being undemocratic, they maintain the practice through less overt means. Resources continue to flow from Africa to the E.U. in an inequivalent exchange. Yet despite everything that United East Africa provided the E.U., they couldn't be bothered to come to their defense. Many have criticized the MEF for its almost isolationist policy, but we would be in a similar position of subservience without it._

_The next few years will be a contest of diplomacy to buy time. We must use the upcoming period of economic prosperity to build an army which can withstand Britannia's power. Because while Britannia may make concessions and promises, our defeat will effectively neuter the Chinese Federation and the E.U. Both of our neighboring behemoths are self-serving and will not take proactive measures to protect us. Instead, they will wait for Britannia to obliterate our resistance, then brandish the flags of self-righteous saviors to invade._

_—AIP: The Surrender of United East Africa and Our Future (May 10, 2017)_

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area Eleven**

As Nunnally had anticipated, Milly soon called for a clandestine student council meeting. Usually such events preceded an elaborate school-wide surprise event. On more somber occasions, they would deal with tragic news such as a terrorist attack and determine who among the student body was affected. Milly was always the first one to know, having access to early press releases through Lord Ashford.

So when Milly approached and discreetly informed her of a meeting with a waver in her voice, Nunnally knew it was the latter, mostly likely concerning Mr. Cameron. A few days ago, Brian had unexpectedly delivered the evidence, saying he trusted her to follow through on her word. Perhaps he understood the time sensitive nature of the task, but Nunnally couldn't help but be suspicious. People didn't do things out of the kindness of their heart.

"Relax," Allie whispered. "You'll convince them."

Nunnally shook her head. She hadn't even been able to see the evidence, relying on Allie to explain the security footage and the numerous witness accounts. Clovis's agent had been incredibly sloppy, but the evidence alone wouldn't be enough. To spur others into actions, she needed a patriotic reason.

"It's a conflict of interest," Nunnally said. "Euphie and I can be involved, but not as leaders. You'll need to do it."

"But this is your plan."

"You know what Lelouch does when groups make too much noise—and we'll be making lots of it? He finds the cracks in the foundation, takes a chisel, and hammers until it shatters. He digs up every secret and spins it so people lose faith. When my identity is revealed, they'll try to say it's a sibling quarrel which got out of hand—"

"It technically is. This is personal for you." 

"—or that it's some convoluted scheme of mine for the throne." Nunnally scowled. "No. It'll be Lelouch's scheme because a blind girl can't possibly have orchestrated it."

Allie's hand brushed through her hair, silently asking for permission, then began partitioning it into chunks. "How is your brother doing? It's hard to imagine him doing... any of that."

"Like I said, he's no angel." Nunnally leaned into the gentle touch. "I think he feels guilty, but mostly he's been very bored and annoyed. Mother is meeting him at the banquet, which will be awkward since I passed the division's message along. Apparently, Mother has been quite nosy."

Allie giggled. "You'd think your mother has a better use for her time."

"You'd think. She'll be coming here afterwards... Is there a way you can be out of town? Maybe a last minute overnight hiking trip?"

"You don't have to worry. I met her before... Still can't believe that."

"She threatened Lelouch's friends again," Nunnally whispered. "And you're not... great at keeping your mouth shut."

"I'm hardly going to insult her, even if she does deserve it. I'm not suicidal." Allie's hands froze. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

"She'll try to get under your skin. She's very good at that."

The door opened and both of them fell silent. A slow pair of footsteps crossed the room to them resting on the couch.

Milly soft hands cradled hers. "Oh, good. You're already here. I'm so—"

"We already know," Nunnally said. "Mr. Cameron stopped answering his emails suddenly. We were supposed to meet to celebrate. Then... nothing."

"But the news said," Milly trailed off and withdrew with a soft understanding gasp. "Everything alright?"

"I will be if you have a surprise student council camping trip to cheer everyone up after such dismal news," Nunnally said, careful to keep her head still as Allie continued to braid her hair. 

"Ignore her," Allie said, her gentle tugs becoming slightly harsher. "She's on edge because her mother is coming and thinks I can't behave."

"No wonder Gramps turned into a sour puss. He yelled at a coder for spending his unstructured time baking cakes," Milly said.

Nunnally winced. That was Lelouch's fault. The two of them had bonded over a love of baking and ridiculous encryptions.

A chair scraped across the floor, and Milly sighed. "I'll organize something."

"I'll be fine," Allie complained.

"Good thing, Ka—Oh. No wonder Grandpa insisted she join her father," Milly said. "Allie, I'm sure you'd be fine. But Nunnally's mother is the second scariest person in the world."

"Who's the first?"

"Her father," Milly said. "It's safer to stay away. Hell, even Lelouch is terrifying if you consider that nearly everyone is convinced he's as harmless as a guppy."

Allie finished braiding with a violent tug. "And what happens when Nunnally turns fourteen at the end of the year? Am I just going to be left behind?"

"Of course not," Nunnally protested. "You're my friend."

"Your mother cast aside her heritage when it was convenient," Allie accused.

Nunnally winced, unsure what to say. It was true. She knew nothing about her grandparents, or anything about her mother's youth. It was as if she was born as the Ganymede's test pilot.

"Your birthday will pass, and your parents will send you off to be useful." Quietly, Allie finished, "There's no room for me there. I'm not smart enough, nor politically important."

"Allie," Nunnally whispered. Thinking of a life without her friend was impossible.

Milly cleared her throat. "That's not actually true. About Em—Nunnally's mother. She had three older sisters and two younger brothers. When her cousin heard of the attack on the town, she begged Grandpa to help her. They were in contact because of her research." Milly fell silent, and Nunnally's chest tightened. "They found her hiding under a pile of clothes. The rest of her family had been made an example of for resisting the local lord."

"What were their names?" Nunnally asked desperately

"I don't know... Sorry. You were named after her cousin though."

"She always said it was after a movie director," Nunnally said bitterly. Another lie. Something had always felt amiss in the story. After all, who named their daughter after a man? Swallowing, Nunnally forced a smile. "Thank you, Milly."

Behind her, Allie had fallen silent. She had always been so critical of her mother, barely tempered by knowing who Nunnally was. Now, Allie said nothing, instead unraveling the braid and beginning anew.

The door opened, the chattering members of the student council pouring inside, abruptly falling silent upon realizing what type of meeting this was. 

Shirley paced on the opposite end of the room, whispering incoherently. She never took bad news well, always bursting into tears. But she would also recover first and attempt to move forward. Her keen sense of justice would be of great use to push forward the plan.

Nina took a seat next to them, deadly silent except for her initial quiet hello. At the end of the meeting, she would withdraw further into her shell and sequester herself in the student labs. Unless the situation dealt with the Numbers, she rarely said anything in these meetings. 

"Are you sending the internship application to the Camelot Engineering Corp?" Milly asked, in an usual attempt to include her in the group.

Sometimes, Nunnally thought that Nina was only there because Milly felt sorry for her.

"No. Who would sponsor me? I'm nothing," Nina whispered.

Nunnally's lip curled. If she only were to have some confidence, then she wouldn't be nothing. The only obstacles in her path were self-imposed.

"Come on, I told you I would. The word of the Ashford heiress has a lot of weight."

"But surely there are more qualified—"

"That's why there are applications," Nunnally snapped. Mr. Cameron had died for his dream, and this girl couldn't even take the smallest step. "Nobody is going to hand it to you on a silver platter. Do you want to do research?"

"Yes," she squeaked. "But—"

"Then fight for it, and stop whining. The world is scary. Assassins walk among us. Terrorists attack innocents minding their own business. Lords take what they wish and fear no repercussions. Either you accept that as an acceptable risk, or hide in your room and waste away until you're nothing but a living corpse," Nunnally said.

Rivalz whistled. "Damn that's harsh. Your brother alright?"

"Never been better."

"Man, I can't tell if that's sarcasm or not."

Allie sighed. "He's fine. She's just crabby because Kallen left, and Euphie won't shut up about her love life."

After viewing the evidence, Euphie had begun avoiding both of them and acting out. Instead of turning down dates, she began accepting each and every one, constantly pushing the boundary of what was acceptable. When Cornelia finally learned of Euphie's recent streak of exploration, she was going to throw a fit and storm into Ashford Academy to chastise every boy herself. 

Nunnally couldn't understand such recklessness. Every person was a potential weakness to exploit. Friendships were risky enough, but romantic entanglements came with expectations. The second Euphie's mother learned, she would hound her daughter with more appropriate matches to protect her chastity. It was better to remain distant and leave everyone the illusion of time.

Arguing heatedly, Euphie and Warren entered the room. For once, it wasn't about their respective love lives, rather a debate on the merits of certain knightmare modifications. Warren was loudly arguing in favor for the Purists's model, while Euphie mercilessly tore them down, having adopted her sister's stance. Cornelia saw the commercialization of knightmares for private gain and political grandstanding as an affront. It was one of the few things she disagreed on with Nunnally's mother who defended their use as necessary for innovation. 

"Where's Roland?" Milly asked as the door opened once more.

"He's on a supply run," Katherine answered. "He already left by the time you told me. I have a test to study for, so can we keep this short, for once, Madame President?"

Milly hummed suspiciously, and Nunnally shrugged. She had sent him off campus immediately when the meeting was called. While Roland was always exceptionally nice, his attitude toward death wouldn't help convince the others. It would do the opposite with him arguing that Mr. Cameron's death had been a necessity to maintain the order of the world. At times, he could rival their history book in spouting off propaganda, and Nunnally had made a few discrete inquiries to his home life as a result. 

"A few weeks ago," Milly began, "we helped organize a student film and even had it aired at the Art Festival. Unfortunately, I have some grave news. Mr. Cameron committed... suicide a week ago. It'll be published in tomorrow's paper. Many among the student film club were overjoyed to work with him, and we should—"

Shirley burst into sobs.

"That can't be right," Rivalz shouted. "I saw the guy. He was so excited. He promised to get me in touch with one of his old cinematographers."

"There were no signs," Katherine whispered.

Confusion was an excellent tool. It helped sow the seeds of doubt, and with a little bit of encouragement... Nunnally elbowed Allie in the side.

"How are they sure?" Allie asked. "Maybe it was an angry fan."

"Yeah! There's no way he'd go back on a promise. He's Captain Britannia, for crying out loud," Rvialz shouted, angrily pacing the road. "The police should've looked better. My mom always hires a private investigator for the defendant. You should see some of the obvious stuff they find."

"Doesn't your father hire people to destroy evidence?" Katherine asked.

"Why do you think they divorced?" he answered. "But none of you can think he did that? Come on, Shirley. Back me up?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "What else could it be? There's no reason to lie."

"Unless whoever did it is very important," Allie said, and Nunnally wanted to cheer.

"A mystery?" Katherine clicked her pen. "Making a film was fun, but we could do some actual investigative work. Maybe it's a conspiracy. We could become famous."

For being such a quiet and studious girl, Katherine always had the wildest, fanatical dreams and goals. On some days, she wanted to be a secretary, working her way up the rank to the Viceroy's personal assistant. Other times, she had loudly speculated on her potential military achievements if she was an ace. The simulator scores had quickly dashed that dream. 

"And then die yourself when you come too close to the truth?" Euphie asked bitterly. "We're students; what can we do?"

The room grew somber. It was all fun and games until death loomed over their heads.

"We still need to discuss how to break it to the student body," Milly said. "The film club will be heartbroken."

"We could make sure he isn't forgotten?" Allie suggested. "He was still Captain Britannia, a hero. Why shouldn't we honor him?"

"You're right," Shirley said. "We'll march right down to the knight police and demand that they do a better job."

It was almost too perfect. Mr. Cameron's infectious personality had enamored everyone and left a vibrant impression. His encouraging words had lifted their hearts. His promises tied students to his survival. So many grew up watching Captain Britannia on screen. He may have just been the actor, but those two images merged in their mind. And Captain Britannia? He would never resort to such a cowardly act.

His death was an injustice.

"Maybe it's for his money," Rivalz muttered. "If the state seizes his assets, a higher-up might fill their pockets. There was a case like that in late 2009. Never made it to court, but Mom was pissed because her clients' family lost everything. And Dad was frothing because it turned out to be some big-shot, so the case was handed to someone else."

"We have a duty to see the truth come to light," Allie said sagely. 

"I remember the Emperor saying that," Warren added. "Something about the people must be vigilant for the weakling's lies and subterfuge. They'll try to trick us by making themselves look strong, and drag down the strong through envy, weakening all of Britannia." He paused. "You're right. It's our patriotic duty to ensure proper justice."

If people misinterpreted her father's grandiose speeches, Nunnally wasn't going to explain. They were supposed to inspire passion and loyalty, not make logical sense. 

Nina squeaked and they fell silent. Carefully. she raised her voice. "We sho—We shouldn't be—be rash. If someone powerful... We could die next."

"Like anyone would dare to touch me," Milly scoffed. "My Grandpa has the ear of Empress Marianne. There'd be hell on Earth if they hurt a hair on my head. Or any of your heads too. Grandpa is very protective of his students."

"But Nina is right. We should be careful," Rivalz said. "We do everything by the books. All right and proper. Then they can't do anything." That was foolishly optimistic. "I'll ask my mom what she thinks. Tell her it's for Captain Britannia. Dad hates his movies, so she'll agree to piss him off."

"Everyone should come," Allie said. "Not just the film club, but every fan of his. It'll be a show of support."

The other student council members voiced their assent, and began discussing the technicalities of conducting their plan. Milly wasn't exactly supposed to leak the news to them early, but a few worried whispers of Mr. Cameron falling off the grid would set the stage and prime the student body. It was going to have to be an impromptu march, which meant that they needed as many people together as possible when the news broke at noon. A quick missive to the film club fixed that problem. They would be showing an old classic in the cafeteria when the news would break.

The thing about marches was that they needed a minimum size to be effective. A few people were an anomaly. A couple dozen, a disturbance. But a few hundred taking to the street? That was something which inspired curiosity and provided anonymity. There was no harm in joining a crowd. 

Nunnally had her own role to play. Right now, their story merely had a faceless villain. She would provide them one. Her blog, which was thankfully still running because of Euphie's catastrophic blunder, had spent the last week peddling curious rumors of Clovis. To attack royalty and survive meant turning it into a defense of royalty. Clovis was the third prince, nigh untouchable. But in choosing to kill a successful commoner, paralyzed below the waist, he had left himself open to unfortunate parallels.

"Nunnally, we need to talk," Milly growled as the meeting ended with a promised camping trip.

She smiled innocently. 

"Don't give me that look. You wanted this. Allie might've been talking for you, but it was your plan. So what the hell are you thinking? You know Prince Clovis is the most likely culprit."

"You could've shown them the proof," Euphie whispered.

"When did you even have the time?" Milly exclaimed. "I learned of it this morning."

"We found his body when it was still fresh." Nunnally shrugged. "I bribed someone for the evidence. It'll be leaked to the news soon. After all, there is no need to implicate myself."

"You're going after Prince Clovis," Milly said weakly, collapsing with a loud thump into a chair. "It won't work. They'll let us march up to the station, make some noise, pretend that we have freedom of speech, and then ask us to disperse. If we don't, we'll all be arrested. After tomorrow, it'll be over. People will forget."

"They won't," Nunnally said. "We're marching to make noise, so when the rumors start, people will listen."

"What rumors?" Milly asked.

"Oh, haven't you heard? Clovis is insanely jealous of Empress Marianne. Perhaps even enough to drive him to murder. Why else would he target a successful commoner who rose above his station. Like her, Mr. Cameron is even paralyzed below the waist due to a spinal injury."

"That's ridiculous," Euphie declared. "Nobody would ever believe that. Clovis has been one of her biggest fans since the beginning. He invites her to parties constantly."

"Or maybe he lusts after her. He does have an endless carousel of women in his bedchambers," Nunnally said dryly. "Same effect, really."

Euphie spluttered.

"Allie, talk some sense into her," Milly ordered. "We can't do this. This is the Viceroy."

"He deserves it," Allie said bitterly. "You didn't see it, Milly. They took away his dignity. And the smell? If Clovis wanted him dead, he could've had him mugged on the street. But no, he had to stage it. He made it personal."

"I should've protected him," Nunnally whispered. "I was so stupid."

"And you're okay with this, Euphie?" Milly asked. 

"It was legal," Euphie mumbled. "Mr. Cameron didn't do anything wrong... Clovis is a painter! He used to come over and teach me to paint. The worst he ever did was drink too much and make a scene. But even you jumped to him being at fault. What am I not seeing?"

"Hey," Milly whispered, footsteps crossing the floor and clothes rustling. "He can be that as well."

"The worst part is"—Euphie hiccupped—"Nelly would've done the same thing. Just because we're royalty doesn't make it right. And it wasn't right. Nothing would've made it right. It was a civilian matter and should've been handled by the courts. But Clovis didn't because the film was legal. Everything was by the book. I asked Nelly what she would do if someone insulted her..."

"Only the strong have that right," Nunnally finished, having heard the same justifications before. 

"Strength measured in security and sending assassins," Euphie said bitterly. "By that definition, I'm worthless. if that's what she believes, she can come and arrest me herself."

"I only want Clovis to apologize," Nunnally lied. "His family deserves to inherit his assets, which won't happen if it's ruled a suicide. Not with potential millions at stake."

Clovis would rather flip the chess board than acknowledge defeat. His reaction would undoubtedly fuel the simmering anger within the student body. Experiencing an injustice had the tendency to do that.

Milly groaned. Her footsteps receded, then returned, pacing the room. They waited in silence for her to come to her decision. Without her, they would struggle to succeed. Milly had access to the academy's security which was necessary to cover their tracks when the inevitable spies came snooping. Her position as the Ashford Heiress would also give her a degree of public immunity that neither Nunnally or Euphie's civilian identities had. They needed a spokesperson who couldn't be disappeared; she fit the bill.

The footsteps stopped before them. 

"We'll need a name," Milly announced. "Any good story needs a name."

"Guardians of the Lotus," Nunnally offered. The flower which remained pristine despite the murky waters, forever untarnished. 

"The Lotus Guardians," Milly said. "Short and sweet is better." The door opened. "And Nunnally? You owe me big time."

The door slammed shut; Nunnally had won the first round. Now, the ball was in Clovis's court.

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

A warm arm wrapped around Leila's waist, and she stepped away from the offending limb, shooting a glare at her fiance, Yoan. Around them, various foreign dignitaries mingled as they waited to be seated. The air was tense despite the easy smiles and regular peals of laughter. No one could forget what had brought them all together for the day: the formal total surrender of United East Africa, or as it would be known after the evening, Area Fifteen. 

Huddled in the corner, the Chancellor and President of United East Africa quietly conversed with the dignitaries from their neighboring countries. Her fellow countrymen and the Chinese ignored them, assured in their power. They had no need to offer kind words. Leila's lip curled in disgust.

"Smile," Yoan hissed, stepping uncomfortably close. "It's bad enough you insisted on wearing your dress uniform. No need to be even more of a downer. The Malcal name is at stake."

"You're here as my guest," she snapped, clasping his hand before it could wander lower than appropriate. If Jeanne was here, she would be ripping the bastard a new one. But when Leila voiced her complaints, he always laughed, amused by her impudence. "The future of our country is at stake."

He sniffed. "Please. It's just a glorified business meeting. The terms are already set in stone." He waved his hand dismissively. "None of this matters. This is a networking opportunity, and you, my sugar-puff, are raining on our parade."

Thankfully for her sanity, General Smilas approached, his stern glare forcing Yoan to keep a respectful distance. He offered a small tight lipped smile, before turning to observe the arriving dignitaries giving their respects to the Australian king. 

"Pathetic, isn't it. Britannia won the war, organized this banquet, and dictated the terms of the treaty. But instead of being wary, the Australians welcome this with open arms for being allowed the privilege of pretending they are the ones in control,” General Smilas said. “Australian independence, what a farce."

"Anything I should do?" Leila asked, taken back by his open cynicism. 

General Smilas shook his head, observing the Secretary of State's arrival. "Be on your toes, but we're here mostly for decoration. Much like the royal family. The real moves are being made by the politicians seeking to capitalize upon the changing landscape. Especially once the news spread. Undoubtedly, the Brits timed it this way."

"What news?" Yoan interrupted.

"And the vultures come to feast. Well, go on and run along. Britannia's oil production is down. Zero is in Venezuela."

A sickening gleam entered Yoan's eyes, and he vanished into the crowd. In his wake, people clustered together, heads bowed to anxiously whisper. By the end of the night, there would be hundreds of new trade deals as business grappled with sourcing oil from elsewhere. A few minutes later, the MEF dignitaries dispersed from their little corner with United East Africa to exploit the golden opportunity.

The guards, bearing the colors of each country, lined the walls and slowly rearranged themselves to better track their charges.

"That should give you some space until dinner begins," General Smilas said, and her heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

"What actually happened?" she whispered. Zero's presence in Venezuela wasn't new. Their spies had reported his presence a while ago, along with Britannia's faltering oil production.

General Smilas pulled out a small black box which began to hum. "A tip from an old, trusted source claimed Britannia will announce their intent to import oil this evening. At least now, it won't be a total surprise, which will diminish Britannia's advantage." In the distance, Yoan leaned dangerously close to a Chinese woman. "I'd ask you to keep a leash on your fiance, but it'd be futile. You might be able to annul your engagement though if he sleeps with her."

"His previous infidelity didn't matter," she said bitterly. 

"But she's a spy. The Russian oligarch did a little more than reveal our former Secretary of Defense's compromised nature. He won't name his contact, but they gave him a lengthy list of suspected Chinese agents. She's among them."

"How did they even get their hands on such information?" 

"Someone who needed a business favor. Otherwise, they would have offered it to the government. Most likely, some ambitious Britannian lord." He sighed. "If you're going to play nice with His Highness, see if you can discover anything about Zero. All our spies in Venezuela just went dark." Her stomach sank. "It reeks of Zero's personal handiwork. Our Director of Intelligence is frothing. I expect he'll want to debrief us after this."

"I'll try, sir," she said. "But why do you think Prince Lelouch would know anything?"

"His mother conducts black-ops missions regularly, and there is a rumor that the Knights of the Round are deployed to assist Zero. Prince Schneizel is too skilled to accidentally let anything slip, and Princess Guinevere stays far away from military affairs. Actually, you might have a chance with Princess Cornelia." General Smilas, his forehead creased in thought, glanced at the entryway. The royals had yet to arrive. They would come fashionably late. "She might talk to you as a fellow woman in military dress. She would try to snap my head off though."

Leila chuckled. For once, her youth was an asset, ensuring she had no personal enemies in the crowd. With a nod, General Smilas departed, sinking into the nameless sea of people. Yoan could play the game of politics and business to elevate his family name, but she would help her country. 

A small hush fell over the crowd as the door opened, and Princess Cornelia stormed inside, her knight on her heels. She barely observed the necessary social pleasantries before planting herself in the corner and crossing her arms, glaring at everyone. The United East Africa group dispersed, reconvening on the opposite side of the room, a stone pillar protecting them from her harsh gaze. 

Leila frowned as Prince Clovis entered next. Princess Cornelia's early entrance could be excused by her love for military decorum, instead of social pleasantries. But Prince Clovis breathed social grace. He would never arrive before a lower ranking prince. So where was Prince Lelouch? Was he already present, having entered long before socially appropriate?

Next came Prince Schneizel, closely followed by Princess Guinevere. Their personal guards peeled away, Brittanian colors outnumbering all other nations' guards. Security was stringent, but Britannia had insisted on extra concessions for their royal family. Even the E.U. President, now quietly conversing with General Smilas, had been denied an additional security detail. As a result, his wife had feigned illness, and in her place, was a supposed distant cousin and special forces agent.

Slowly, Leila drifted through the crowd to the opposing doors. With Prince Schneizel, everyone important had arrived. Dinner would begin soon.

The Britannian near her gracefully dropped to his knee, and she spun around, her breath catching in her throat. Sitting regally in her wheelchair, Empress Marianne rolled in, pushed by her son. She hadn't been on the guest list. Princess Guinevere, despite her pinched expression, crossed the room and politely greeted her.

With a flick of Empress Marianne's hand, the Britannians straightened and returned to their previous conversations. The opposing doors finally opened; dinner had begun. Prince Lelouch stepped to the side respectfully, allowing his mother to guide her own wheelchair. She whispered something in his ear, and he looked at her in horror. Empress Marianne's subsequent laughter was surprisingly nice for someone nicknamed the Butcher.

To her surprise, Leila was seated across from Prince Lelouch. At her side, Yoan tried to engage the minor Chinese official, Li Xingke, between his unsubtle glares at the prince. Observing the young Japanese girl, Leila had the distinct impression that they had all been relegated to the kiddie portion of the table. Far up ahead, General Smilas and Prince Schneizel glared at each other, while Empress Marianne conversed with the Australian king. Below them, were the various nobles, politicians, and businessmen, who were nobody of note. Yes, this was the furthest down the table they could be seated without being too obvious about the insult.

"It's an honor to be seated so high up," Yoan whispered, finishing his amuse-bouche, completely unaware.

She gingerly bit into her own, a cherry-tomato stuffed with expensive cheese and artfully dribbled in vinaigrette. It was divine. Across from her, Prince Lelouch stared at his suspiciously. The girl—his date, part of her whispered viscously—leaned across, snatching it off his plate. Prince Lelouch didn't even protest. 

"I'm afraid I don't know your name," Leila said, catching the girl's attention.

Her eyelashes fluttered. "Kaguya please, dear. We're all friends here, are we not? You are Leila, right?"

Prince Lelouch's expression contorted for a second, and he sighed. "Every single time, must we do this, Kaguya? The poor eavesdroppers."

"A worthy reason. Accept your upcoming loss like a graceful prince."

"My loss? You are bold. Victory was mine last time and you still owe me. A graceful loser, you are not. My ears still hurt from your loud protests."

Leila frowned at the unusual behavior and strange cadence to their speech. Each statement was preceded by a slight pause, and she felt there was a game afoot where she did not know the rules. Her eyes narrowed in displeasure. Prince Lelouch's behavior was markedly different in the strange girl's company, and their body language spoke of familiarity. Who was she?

"What brings you here, Kaguya?" Leila asked hesitantly as the salads arrived.

Tossing her hair back, Kaguya leaned forward. "A demon pleaded. My good heart hadn't the strength to refuse my dear."

Had the girl just called the prince a demon?

Next to her, Prince Lelouch groaned. "Stop calling me that. Not your dear or fiance. My heart is my own."

Kaguya rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder in mock sympathy. Turning to Leila, she said, "He protests too much. A fair lady has claimed his heart. What can I do?"

"Don't spread such falsehoods. Find another prince to wed and seduce to bed."

Leila glanced at Yoan, but having given up on trying to entreat the Xingke into a conversation, he was eagerly diving into his salad. After women, food was the easiest way to his heart. Unfortunately, his table manner left much to be desired. She would gain no insights into the bizarre conversation from him. Disgusted, she turned away and met Xingke's curious gaze. He, at least, seemed to know something.

"He lies. His sister, Nunnally is hoarding his heart so selfishly," Kaguya tutted. "Her conniving ways deny us untold pleasure. A most fearsome foe."

Prince Lelouch buried his head in his hands. "This is revenge, right? My joke was in poor taste, but this is excessive. My parents had their turn, already. Anything further is too cruel."

Setting down her silverware abruptly, Leila leaned back in her chair, trying to hide her grimace. Her stomach clenched painfully. Slowly, she sipped her water and tried not to think of why Kaguya seemed to know Prince Lelouch's sister. He rarely mentioned her, yet Kaguya had claimed they were close. And despite being Britannian, she was teasing him in a way that Leila had never dared to. She didn't owe the prince anything; Kaguya did, but it was Kaguya flouting social rules.

Xingke lifted his hand, finger splayed and brow furrowed. His gaze lingered on Kaguya, before asking in astonishment, "You're speaking in Haikus?"

"No, of course not," Prince Lelouch said, his tone saying the exact opposite.

Kaguya crowed in delight. "Yes, I win. Come on, pay up and don't be a sore loser again, Vi. Nothing pleases me more than the sweet taste of victory."

"I could've fixed it," he grumbled, but his hand reached inside his coat regardless and withdrew a small box which he passed to Kaguya. "As my lady doth requests. Your gluttony knows no bounds. Perhaps wait until after the desserts are served?"

She snorted. "Please. As if anything could compare to this." Gingerly, she withdrew a hand sized bun with crispy, rocklike patterns. Closing her eyes, she bit into it. "They never make it orange flavored. What did you put into it this time?"

Prince Lelouch shook his head and leaned out of the way as the waiters served the fish. "Anise seeds. And you're eating the last of it. You do know it's rude to eat outside food?"

"To your eternal despair. Otherwise, you'd never eat anything." Kaguya forlornly placed the remainder in the box. "You're missing your calling as a chef."

"And you as an actor. Didn't Prince what's-his-name ask you to perform as Juliet."

She shuddered. "Prince George. Really, Lelouch. Can't you be bothered to remember your siblings' names?"

"Remind me how many I have again?"

Next to them, Xingke paused, fork midway to his mouth, and stared.

"Of course, I was busy. The company doesn't run itself, and my schedule at times is _so_ terribly unpredictable. It really conspires against my social calendar," Kaguya said.

The conversation died down, and Leia, her mouth suddenly dry, commented, "I heard Zero is in Venezuela."

"It's a conspiracy," Prince Lelouch mumbled.

Kaguya giggled. "Don't mind him. He always gets annoyed when people ask him about Zero. I don't think he's escaped a single ball without some noble accosting him."

"It keeps getting worse. First it was, 'Oh, I heard Prince Odysseus was talking to Zero. You wouldn't have by any chance seen him?' Then, ‘Has your mother ever mentioned him?' Of course she has. She loves gossip. Now, even my siblings can't spend a day without theorizing. Surely, people have better things to do than discuss a fictitious commander." Prince Lelouch grimaced and set down his silverware, leaving his fish barely touched.

General Smilas was right. Prince Lelouch rarely ate. Even here where not eating would be scandalously rude, he toyed with his food, resembling a sparrow. When he did finally take a bite, he swallowed it quickly like a piece of bitter, but necessary medicine. Absently, he twirled the knife, skillfully, only setting it down when Kaguya gave him a pointed look. 

"So Britannia keeps Zero's identity a secret even from the upper echelons of society," Xingke remarked. 

"Trusting has never described my father," Prince Lelouch said dryly.

Yet, Leila realized with horrifying clarity, he could know. He had been in the army, despite how utterly ridiculous the thought of royalty enlisting was... and no one knew. The Emperor trusted his mother, and Prince Lelouch had arrived with her. Suddenly, General Smilas' paranoia didn't feel so far fetched anymore. She didn't think he was like his parents, but watching him reveal another side to Kaguya, she knew now that she had peeled back only one of his numerous layers. Yet, she still wanted to trust him.

"I find it curious you would invite Miss Sumeragi," Xingke said. "She is Japanese."

"Honorary Britannian," Kaguya corrected firmly. "Britannia has been most accommodating. Had my life gone as my father planned, I would be stuck at home and serving tea. My worth, defined only by my looks."

Her father was clearly of the same breed as Yoan, and Leila couldn't fault her for trying to find a place for her herself in the lion's den. What would Leila do to survive?

"Yet your people suffer while you sit in the lap of luxury," Xingke said without a hint of sympathy. "It merely took you selling out your father to secure your place in a new regime, forgetting loyalty and honor."

Kaguya shuddered, her hands turning white as she gripped the silverware. But she didn't say anything, merely bowed her head in tacit agreement. Leila needed more information to understand; she was flying blind, their personal histories hidden.

"Nothing to say? Are you a coward as well?" Xingke sneered.

Prince Lelouch reached out, covering her trembling hand. "Lord Xingke, please do remember who she is seated next to, and where we are. Unlike you, she does not have the pleasure of returning to an empress who will forgive her transgressions." Grabbing the pitcher, he refilled Kaguya's glass, then his own. "If you must know, the late Sumeragi already negotiated the engagement beforehand. In an unusual act of mercy, my father decided to honor the previous agreement due to Kaguya's display of loyalty."

"My duty now is to serve Britannia," Kaguya said softly, none of her earlier discomfort present. Withdrawing her hand, she began eating at a sedated pace. "I am ever so grateful."

"My apologies," Xingke said, inclining his head slightly. "I forget that not everyone is blessed with such a benevolent ruler." 

Prince Lelouch's lips quirked at the slight against the Emperor, and he drew Xingke into a detailed political discussion concerning maritime trade, far above her head. Occasionally, Kaguya would chime in, her remarks seemingly childish, but Xingke would frown contemplatively, betraying her to be unexpectedly insightful. They lived in a world separate from Leila, where knowledge was power and lies, a necessity.

The first main course, roasted duck, arrived, and Leila happily took a bite to distract herself from her uneasy thoughts. She was out of her depth. During social occasions, she sequestered herself in the corner and avoided conversations. She had her classes at the academy in which she excelled. This game of words and slights had always felt unnecessary and contrived.

Even here, at a formal dinner, words carried dual meanings. 

She couldn't wait to return home and to her classes to discuss the finer, but concrete, points of tactics or to dissect intelligence reports from Briannia and glean information regarding their troop movements. At least data she could trust; people, not so much. And coming to Australia had made her untrustworthy as well. Her and Jeanne's attempt to supplant Frederick's loyalty was proof that despite the friendly words between her and Prince Lelouch, they were still enemies.

Of course, he trusted the strange girl more. Their inside jokes spoke of a long history with another. Their casualness hinted at a mutual understanding. More importantly, they were on the same side.

Under the table, Yoan's hand settled on her knee. She glared at him, and he raised an eyebrow, daring her to make a scene. They both knew she couldn't afford to. Gritting her teeth, she distracted herself by looking up the table, where General Smilas and Prince Schneizel glared at another fiercely. Some of the staff had begun whispering that their apparent hatred masked their deep longing. General Smilas always scowled fiercely whenever he overheard the remarks.

At the head of the table, Empress Marianne talked animatedly in stark contrast to her subdued companions. She didn't look like a blood thirsty general that instilled paralyzing fear in anyone who knew they'd face her across the battlefield. Even dressed in finery, she acted... normal. More normal than the Australian king next to her, resembling a mouse, frozen in terror, before a cat. She was the most powerful person in the room; she could act as she pleased.

Kaguya laughed and leaned into the prince's personal space. "Will you—"

"Finish that sentence," Prince Lelouch growled, "and I will never cook for you again."

"—pass the salt?" Kaguya finished cheekily.

Prince Lelouch glowered and thrust the salt into her hands. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew a small packet and dumped half of its content on his steak, before turning to Xingke. "Chili?"

"Poisoned?" Xingke asked dryly and grimaced as he tasted his steak.

Kaguya snorted. "You'll be fine. His Highness has only ever poisoned his father."

"By accident," Prince Lelouch hissed. "They were for Nunnally and myself. I wasn't going to make them bland."

"I was referring to the Christmas cookies," Kaguya said. "Those were definitely your fault."

"Gingerbread cookies should have _ginger._ " Prince Lelouch shook his head and took a bite of his newly seasoned steak. "My parents' tastes are terribly bland. No appreciation at all for proper seasoning."

Xingke set down his fork, gently sniffed the packet of spice, and looked at the prince who was finally eating. Shrugging, he dumped the remainder on his own steak. "If I die, I will come back and haunt you, Your Highness." Hesitantly, he took a bite and his eyes squeezed shut. Blearily, he turned to the prince. "This is what you consider well seasoned?" But he took another bite eagerly.

"No, it's better to season food while you're cooking, but it does in a pinch," Prince Lelouch said. 

Curious, Leila leaned forward. "May I try?"

Kaguya chuckled. "Better not. Your French taste buds will be scorched."

"How does a Britannian come to enjoy spicy food?" Xingke asked. "And where did you find this?"

"I ground it myself." Prince Lelouch shrugged. "And Britannia isn't devoid of spice. There's this pepper in the south, malagueta." He pronounced the foreign word smoothly.

Shaking her head, Kaguya explained, "Like most of his quirks, it's his sister's fault and started with a dare."

Prince Lelouch glared at her but didn't deny the accusation. Once again, he wasn't acting as expected of a Britannian Prince. It was almost as if he was going out of his way to advertise his eccentricities... Leila frowned. Even him inviting Kaguya—whatever she was considered, Eleven, Japanese, or Honorary Britannian—added to that image. Around them, each delegate embraced their home nation, flashing traditional colors. In wearing her military uniform, Leia had done so as well. Prince Lelouch was the only one crossing cultural boundaries, but why?

Or maybe he really had developed a taste for spicy food in the army. The Britannian commoners didn't have the time to delicately prepare dishes, when flavor could be added by exceptionally hot spices.

“Will you be joining us on our flight?” Xingke asked. “The Empress is looking forward to your regular visit.”

Kaguya leaned back. “No. I have some social obligations to attend to first. Which guard will accompany me this time, Your Highness?”

“Assistant.” Prince Lelouch scowled. “Given that they’ve all managed to cause undue offense on your previous visits, I have no idea. Might I suggest keeping the next one before you’re assigned an actual guard? They’re much less pleasant.”

“Not a fan of your own guards?” Leila teased tentatively. “Where is Henry anyway? He’s always hovering over your shoulder.”

Prince Lelouch smirked. “I’m a minor prince. I’m not supposed to have an additional security detail.”

Henry had definitely slipped in, unallowed; Leila bit back a shudder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -Akito has Leila's fiance's name as Ioan Malcal in English which is the Welsh form of John. It's also common in Romanian. Yoan is the translation of the Japanese version and also the French form of John. As the latter makes much more sense, I went with that. It does lead me to wonder why the anime has a tendency for the English version of the name to use Irish and Welsh variants. 
> 
> -I assume Lloyd was responsible for getting Nina into the Camelot Engineering Corp in the anime. As the ASEEC was probably a subset of the group, there should be numerous other projects. If Schneizel's intention was to develop new weaponry exclusively for himself then he is probably recruiting broadly. And what better way to do that than with an intern program? (Everyone was also way too relaxed around Nina for it to be incredibly unusual for someone her age to be there.)
> 
> -I recently rewatched some episodes and was struck by how ridiculous episode 15 in season 2 is with a magical button that rises from the ground that everyone dramatically presses. Is it implying the World of C is basically a computer? How am I supposed to interpret this? Also, the way Charles hugs C.C. like he's gingerly sweeping her off her feet as he preps to take her code or something? Um…
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> Many syllables were butchered in this chapter to form the haikus. And then I wrote two tankas because someone cried romance. More of a gimmick, but I hope it entertained at least some of you. 
> 
> My dismal attempts at poetry aside, I'm excited to finally have reached the banquet. Originally, I wanted it to be one chapter, but as I try to keep my chapters under 10k that wasn't possible. Splitting the scenes naturally has resulted in these few chapters being slightly shorter than average. Compared to other fics… they're still long. I'd rather have chapters that flow smoothly and aid the pacing than stuff in scenes to round them out. :)
> 
> Anyway, quick shout out to all commenters and reviewers! I'm absolutely thrilled by the level of engagement I'm getting. Sequels tend to perform more poorly as people lose interest and drift away, but book 2 is definitely doing better on a chapter by chapter basis. So thank you!
> 
> Two Quick Questions: 
> 
> Should I include Marrybell? There's potentially room for her, but I don't have access to her source material, and, as she isn't a common character in fanfics, I know very little about her character. I'm leaning towards no because my cast is already ridiculously large. For those of you who want to see her and like her, what makes her interesting to you? 
> 
> Valentine's Day is approaching… As you may have guessed by me writing a gen fic, I'm not really into romance. But I'm willing to try my hand at it and write a one-shot for all of you. It would not be in the Excalibur verse (although you guys are free to write whatever you wish in it XD) but a stand alone. 
> 
> What pairing and/or situation are you guys interested in? This is my gift to you for being awesome… Or I guess I could give you an extra update instead? Decisions…
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj  
> Thank you x1tears1X and on FFN for your help with betaing


	9. Now It's Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
> 
> Recap: Recap: United East Africa prepares to officially surrender to Britannia at a formal banquet in Australia. There, Lelouch and Leia mingle, collecting information.

_...I must admit great surprise upon finally meeting Prince Lelouch tonight. We have both heard the rumors of him being childish and spoiled, yet I found scant evidence to support such a conclusion. The old nobles have been deluded because Prince Lelouch does not conform to their expectations. They mistake his candor for naivety and his jokes as rebellion. Rather, both reveal a keen intellect beneath his facade. He is incredibly polite, and I saw him making multiple rounds throughout the night. He engaged with members from every country, even remaining cordial as a few foolish ones hurled insults to his face. To my shame, I must attest that some of our own nobles were among the number. None would dare to insult any of his siblings as such, but they still see Empress Marianne as an upstart commoner. Truly, they are fortunate that Prince Lelouch is of a much calmer demeanor. Still, I cannot help but worry for their futures. I doubt Empress Marianne will allow such insults to stand unpunished. Whether Prince Lelouch will retaliate at a more appropriate time, I do not know. He strikes me as someone with a long memory._

_My dear, I recommend that we approach Prince Lelouch. For now, the majority of the court fails to see his potential. Earning our way into his good graces now can only bring us good fortune. By the time he is finally recognized as someone who can stand on par with his siblings, it will be too late. He has scant few allies from what I can ascertain. I suspect Lord Ashford will continue to support him, if only because of Empress Marianne, but otherwise his only close relationship seems to be with Miss Sumeragi who has a controlling interest in the Kyoto House. A royal consorting with an Honorary Britannian, even if she's foreign nobility, is rather strange. I think I will try to learn more of her. Like His Highness, she has been flying under the radar for years, and the rumor mill seems to have a glaring blind spot for those not conforming to Britannian norms..._

_-Excerpt from a letter from Lady Heuberger to her husband, postmarked May 11, 2017_

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

Dinner ended with a delicious serving of ice cream topped with gold flakes. Leila took her time savoring it, knowing she would never dine in such luxury again. Such opulence was reserved for the elite, which she'd never be part of.

Prince Lelouch ignored his meal and cast a glance at the head of the table where his mother sat. He slipped away, Kaguya trailing after.

As Leila stood, Yoan growled and grabbed her wrist. "Stop being so friendly with the prince. Your Britannian roots are showing."

"Unlike you, I serve my country before my pocket book." She tore her hand from his grip and stepped back primly. "While you flirt and line your pockets, Britannia continues to expand and grow more powerful. General Smilas and I are trying to limit their power."

"Yes, being in his favor would be helpful." Noticing her confusion, Yoan smiled and leaned in, his hot breath assaulting her ear. "With the Secretary of Defense's resignation, the President must announce his replacement or else lose to the plebian interloper. Promising the famed war hero the spot will silence his opponents, who like you, grow tired of our inaction against Britannia. So go play nice. Having Smilas in the Malcal family's debt will bring us much fortune."

He shoved her lightly into the crowd and disappeared, leaving her shaking in rage. Relentlessly, he disparaged her and she was supposed to shut up and take it? All because they took her in after her parents' assassination? She brought prestige and wealth to them. Her father's master stroke remained in her possession. She knew the code to open her parents' offshore vaults when she finally came of age. That was her dowry, a parting gift from her father. She didn't need Yoan.

Stopping, she considered the thought once more. She didn't need Yoan. The Malcals had tied her to them out of a sense of obligation. But in the end that meant nothing. They needed her, not the other way around. All this time, they were merely trying to twist the truth to keep her beholden.

"Leila Malcal?" A voice interrupted her musings, and Leila turned, her eyes widening as she recognized Empress Marianne. The woman's gaze left her feeling oddly exposed. "I hope my son behaved himself."

"He did," Leila said hesitantly. She was a nobody. Why was Empress Marianne seeking her out? A shiver ran down Leila's spine, and she searched for General Smilas's familiar form among the crowd. He at least knew how to handle Empress Marianne.

"Not your scene, I take it," Empress Marianne said, wheeling closer. "It takes a while to get used to."

"I fear I will never." Would it be rude if Leila just excused herself? Did it matter? Britannia and the E.U. were by no means allies.

Empress Marianne chuckled. "Perhaps you are right. None of us are ever comfortable."

"You're relaxed," Leila accused, still searching for an escape. It was probably best not to cause offense. Still, she would take Yoan's company over hers. At least with him, she knew what he wanted.

"Am I?" Empress Marianne turned around, scanning the room. "You wouldn't happen to know where my son had wandered off to?"

"He mentioned hunting down someone to interrogate on Arabic pronunciation."

Empress Marianne sighed, shaking her head. "Typical. If you run into him, tell him I wish to speak to him."

"Of course," Leila said.

"You're one of the best in your class. General Smilas chose his adjutant well," Empress Marianne said, and Leila's heart thumped painfully. Of course Britannian intelligence would be tracking her as well. She was too close to their royals to escape attention. Not to mention they would be interested in her because of her Britannian heritage. "Your fiance though leaves much to be desired."

"He has his moments," Leila protested weakly. The hard look from Empress Marianne radiated disbelief. "I've had my time to make peace with it. And at least I can say I know him. Britannian marriages are often arranged exclusively for politics, aren't they?"

"Among the nobility at least. Many of Charles's other wives didn't meet him until the night of." She smirked. "Not that they have any real reason to complain. They and their family gained power."

"Power before love, right?"

Empress Marianne laughed. "I am not the right person to ask that, my dear. But in Britannia, your fiance would be much more wary. Both sides should benefit in a marriage, and I fail to see what he brings."

Hadn't she just come to the same conclusion herself? But hearing it from a Britannian Empress made her reluctant to agree.

"Perhaps because it isn't your business," Leila snapped. "Why should I care how Britannia runs things? I'm French and proud of it."

"But not everyone sees it that way," Empress Marianne said softly, and Leila bristled at the pity in her voice. "You can climb to the greatest heights, but you will never sway everyone. The shackles of our personal histories are impossible to shake off." More quietly, she added, "No matter how hard you wish."

"In Britannia," Leila said, crossing her arms. The E.U. was different. Everyone had a chance.

"You hope to claim a victory and put to rest concerns over your loyalty." She shook her head, and gestured to a Frenchwoman who turned away upon realizing she had been noticed. "Merely me seeking you out for a discussion already makes them question your loyalty. If you win a major battle against Britannia, they will say we granted you the victory to gain a spy in your ranks."

"You are telling me to give up?" Leila asked through gritted teeth.

"I wouldn't ask of you the impossible. I simply suggest you understand the cards you've been dealt, and then decide where to focus your energy. Perhaps you'll prove to be an exception, but understand that it'll be a lifelong struggle. We're mere mortals, capable of only so much in our finite lives. Some may say it makes living worth living." A whimsical smile crossed her face, quickly replaced with a somber frown. "It's a lesson my son had a painful time learning and struggles to apply."

With those parting words, Empress Marianne finally left.

The room felt oppressive, every person's gaze judging her. They had seen Empress Marianne approach her and were now wondering why. A question Leila had no answer for as well. Nothing had prepared her for meeting Empress Marianne. Not the news and rumors from back home which painted her in a bloodthirsty, greedy light. Not General Smilas's personal accounts which suggested a woman unhinged and capable of the greatest atrocities. Not even Prince Lelouch, who in hindsight, barely mentioned her when not making a joke.

Ducking into the chattering crowd, Leila drifted aimlessly, searching for a secluded corner. She knew she should meet with General Smilas and discuss the encounter while the words were still fresh in his mind. But she didn't need his heavy frown of disapproval. He didn't see her as a potential traitor, just frustratingly naive. Was it naive to strive for a better future? To see the good in others?

Worse, she could meet Yoan, while Empress Marianne's words echoed in her mind and mirrored her own thoughts. What did it say about Leila that she had come to the same conclusion? That she didn't need Yoan. To disregard how the Malcals sheltered her was a Britannian mindset. She owed them.

A large potted tree loomed over the crowd, and she walked to it. There, hopefully, she could find some respite from the crowd and endless eyes. Like always, she would linger in the corner, all alone.

To her surprise, the nook behind the tree wasn't abandoned. Two startled pairs of eyes stared at her. Prince Lelouch was the first one to recover and abruptly pulled her down besides them. "Get down," he hissed. "They'll find us."

"You've stumbled upon the social recluse corner," Kaguya greeted. "Please leave your shoes and personal baggage by the door."

"Your mother is looking for you," Leila said dumbly, unsure how to respond to the sheer ridiculousness of both of them hunched behind a potted tree.

Prince Lelouch shook his head and leaned against the wall. "She does that; I avoid her. It's a familiar game." He scanned her, eyes narrowed. "Did she threaten you?"

What had happened to make that the first conclusion he would draw?

"No," Leila said, sitting down on the cold stone floor. "Just asked me where you were. What are you two doing?"

Kaguya grinned and pointed at a passing lord. "That's Lord Wittleton. He's had five glasses so far and is slightly drunk. Obviously, he's trying to gather the courage to propose to his sweetheart. How romantic, isn't that right, Vi?"

"No. He's only asking now because his latest gamble was a catastrophic failure," Prince Lelouch said and nodded to an approaching lady. "Unfortunately for him, she already knows. She's about to tell him that she's breaking up with him."

"Love conquers all," Kaguya said with a sing-song voice. "What will you bet on, blondie?"

Leila stared at the couple, biting her lip. Compared to earlier, this felt incredibly childish. "He won't have the courage, but she'll stay with him?"

Kaguya groaned as her prediction came to pass. "I thought he had it in him."

"He's near destitute. She should've left him," Prince Lelouch grumbled, pulling out a box filled with rice balls, partially wrapped in seaweed and offering it to Leila. "The ones one the right are mild." He paused as an overweight eunuch stumbled past. "He's going to insult Empress Tianzi, and Xingke will pretend to be unaffected but will order the guards to remove him."

"Xingke will first reach for his sword, forgetting that he doesn't have it on him." Sighing, Kaguya whined, "I already know you got that one. It's not fun if you pick the sure bets."

"Hmm? It's called winning, Hime. Give me my wasabi."

Leila cleared her throat, holding the strange lump of rice in her hands. "Why are you doing this, Ka-"

"No names," Kaguya hissed. "Or do you want all the fishes in the treacherous sea to come?"

"Social events of all kinds are terribly boring," Prince Lelouch answered. "We have about half an hour before people realize we're missing and have to mingle again."

And Leila had thought standing next to the wall was being anti-social.

"Your turn," Prince Lelouch said.

She looked into the crowd, searching for someone she recognized. A dark man looked between General Smilas and Prince Schenizel. Giggling, she pointed at him and said, "He's going to ask General Smilas if the rumors about him and Prince Schneizel are true. General Smilas will glower at him until he flees."

"Ooh, any salacious tidbits for us? You have to know something." Kaguya said, invading her personal space. Next to her Prince Lelouch was strangely still. "What do you think, Vi?"

"I'm very glad that I'll be on the east coast for the Empire Day festivities."

Kaguya gasped. "You didn't?"

"I may have underestimated Guinevere's proclivity to gossip," Prince Lelouch mumbled and rubbed the back of his head. "It was supposed to be a minor rumor, not an international one."

"Oh, like the conspiracy theory that Odysseus died twenty years ago and that has been a body double this entire time?"

"That was a joke," he protested weakly. "Why anyone believed it is beyond me."

"Or the one that Carine funded the Count and resulted in a six-month long investigation to confirm neither her nor her mother had anything to do with it?"

Every French news outlet had reported on that one, eager to see a schism in the royal family.

Prince Lelouch's shoulders hunched. "She insulted Nunnally."

"What about your father being a clone of an advanced alien species tasked with conquering the Earth and preparing it before the main fleet arrives?"

"A little louder, please?" he asked sarcastically. "I'd like to delay the inevitable as long as possible."

Leila's brow furrowed, remembering her friend's deep dive into the bizarre corners of the internet. "You spread a rumor that the Emperor is enslaving humanity to power an alien supercomputer?"

"No, I'm not suicidal." He crossed his arms. "I merely stated on multiple occasions that anyone who saw him handle a toddler would think him to be an alien. Perfectly true, mind you. The palace staff did most of the work, warping it beyond recognition. Then my mother heard it, thought it was hilarious, and posted it online as a prank with a few additional liberties."

"Once again spiraling far beyond your control," Kaguya tutted. "Remember to invite me to your funeral when your father finally figures out who started it."

"I'm going to be stuck doing audits to last a life-time," he moaned. "At least my mother promised to warn me if he came close. She's endlessly amused by him pretending that it doesn't bother him and unable to do much without revealing how much it bothers him."

If Leila shared this conversation with General Smilas, he wouldn't believe her. Or worse, if he did, he would try to kill Prince Lelouch for suggesting that he had seduced Prince Schneizel. She took solace in the fact that Prince Lelouch had to deal with his brother who had to be equally unamused. Although, to be fair, the two of them did argue like a married couple at times. They had sat across each other in the negotiation room for too long, making them hyper aware of each other's body language. An onlooker could mistake that familiarity for attraction.

Kaguya groaned. "Vi, your shadow approaches. Fun time has come to an end."

"Well, Hime, should a demon capture you for his diabolical plan?" Prince Lelouch smirked.

"Fleeing hardly counts as diabolical." She sniffed. "Unlike you, I have standards. "

A glowering Henry stopped by their nook and interrupted, "Your mother grows impatient."

"And I'm avoiding her," Prince Lelouch said, not moving a centimeter. "It's for the best, really. We'd simply get into an argument, and my father was quite clear that I shouldn't cause a scene."

Leila met Henry's gaze confidently as he narrowed his eyes at her, promising retribution if she dared to do anything. Unlike Frederick, he was almost constantly at Prince Lelouch's side. It hadn't stopped him from abandoning his charge to Fredercick the one time he caught sight of Jeanne to threaten her. According to Frederick, he was always naturally paranoid and never fully trusted him in the first place due to his family's treasonous history. General Smilas was waiting for the perfect opportunity to bait him.

To the side, Kaguya ate a rice ball indifferently. From Henry's exasperation and Prince's Lelouch's resigned expression this was a normal occurrence. Every intelligence report indicated he was close to his mother and on good terms with her. Yet the evidence before her was contrary. Was this a recent development?

"Why would you argue?" Leila asked.

"She's been trying to steal a friend of mine." Prince Lelouch turned to her, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "I hear we royals are very protective of what is ours. So naturally, I object. Unfortunately,"-his expression turned bitter-"I can only yell at her."

"What friends?" Kaguya asked. "I'm your only friend."

"Frederick is my friend," he said earnestly.

Leila resisted the urge to smile victoriously. A prince would never consider a commoner a friend, according to General Smilas. Yet Lelouch had. He had said it openly without a hint of hesitation. A frown tugged at her lips. Lelouch and Frederick were friends. Just like she would never betray Jeanne, Frederick would never turn against his prince. All that time trying to build a relationship was pointless. Jeanne would always be the distant relative, while Lelouch the close friend because he had arrived there first.

Rolling her eyes, Kaguya said, "He's your guard. That doesn't count."

His eyebrows drew together, affronted. "Does too."

"Not when he has to follow your every order without question."

"Fine." Lelouch looked away, his eyes locking onto Leila's. Dropping his gaze slightly, he twisted his hands, and continued quietly, "Edgar, a doctor."

Was he one of the other boys in the photo? The name felt like a dangerous secret. And perhaps it was. A royal's friend was a potential weakness.

"Does he call you an idiot?" Kaguya asked.

Lelouch shot her a look. "I'll have you know, Frederick calls me that repeatedly as well." He paused and turned to Henry, growling, "Did you have to tell her where I was hiding?"

"I wasn't going to drag you," Henry said and Leila caught sight of Empress Marianne slowly making her way to them.

Groaning, Lelouch stood and gave a short bow to Kaguya, passing her a piece of paper, before extending a hand to Leila. "My apologies, but I doubt either of you wish to be subject to my mother's interrogations once more."

"The shipment-" Kaguya began.

"Taken care of. About-"

"The things I do for you. You could at least try flattery. Why, one would think you only kept me for my money." She waved her hand. "Go distract your mother."

Leila watched him depart, the crowd parting before him as they recognized the prince. He stopped before his mother and offered a bow. Empress Marianne said something before turning around and dragging him along, a respectful distance between them. Was this what people considered close in Britannia? Or was every child destined to grow distant from their parents as they grew older? Leila couldn't know, her father, taken from her so young.

"What did he give you?" Leila asked curiously.

"A cake recipe." Kaguya unfolded the paper and showed it to her, before tucking it away. "You should listen more carefully, blondie."

Leila grit her teeth and stood. "Cake never entered the discussion."

Kaguya sighed, scanning the crowd. "Your first mistake was not knowing who I am. No, your first mistake was not understanding what it means to be part of Britannian court. I didn't either at first. Here, one misstep can mean death. Your second mistake was to trust your senses. To survive means to hide behind a mask. Those who understand you can predict you, making you their pawn. But if you're uncontrollable, you're dead as well. To succeed is to play each mask to perfection, letting others believe they know you, while peeling back their own layers until they're your pawn, and it's much too late for them to realize the trap they sprung."

"So who are you?" Leila hissed. The girl had been so unnerved by Xingke's accusations but, after a moment, had composed herself and acted perfectly subservient. "What engagement did your father arrange?"

"I'm to wed whichever prince asks me," Kaguya answered, flinging her arms wide as if to embrace the opportunity. "My feelings are naturally inconsequential. It's a political arrangement. But should the wrong prince ask me, I will die alongside him when the time comes. And if the Emperor tires of my antics-my political use, too insignificant-he will execute me as well."

Somehow, she smiled through the entire explanation while Leila withdrew in horror. The strange quips about seduction and marriage took on another meaning. Kaguya wished to marry Lelouch, but he was steadfastly refusing. What made him an enticing match? Or was Kaguya simply clinging onto friendship instead of politics?

"Empress Marianne executed my aunt," Kaguya said, her eyes distant. "They broadcasted it across the country. My family had gone to a secret bunker, so I never saw the immediate consequences of the invasion. That was the first time I saw someone die, sitting on a cushion and eating a bowl of fried rice while my father argued with the Prime Minister over the phone in the next room. My aunt kept begging, not for her life, but her son's, my cousin. Lelouch saw his first execution when he was five. Ironically, his mother committed the deed as well then."

"And you're his friend?" Leila asked, not understanding.

Kaguya smiled. "Well, a little over two years later, I attended the execution of my father. Afterwards, Lelouch was honest with me. He and his sister answered my questions about Britannian culture, informed me of the important players, and alerted me regarding risks to my family's business. We have a mutual understanding."

"You know him well," Leila said bitterly.

"We shouldn't talk too long." Kaguya grimaced. "Without Lelouch to vouch for me, they'll accuse me of conspiring with you. What will you do now?"

Leila's stomach squeezed. "General Smilas suggested I talk to Princess Cornelia."

Laughing, Kaguya latched onto her arm and pulled her forward. "We shall commence on a quest to find the most radiant jewel of the night. A true lioness." Resting her head on Leila's shoulder, Kaguya whispered, "She hates me but may talk to you since you're in uniform. I'm too... girly for her taste. Address her as General Cornelia when you meet."

"Why are you helping me?" Leila asked as they finally caught sight of Princess Cornelia, glowering at everyone who approached and lounging against the wall with her knight,

"Don't dance around with your words either. Be blunt," Kaguya whispered. Slowly, she withdrew and turned to the princess, offering a deep bow. "Your Highness, a pleasure as always. Did you do something new to your hair?"

"Go away," Princess Cornelia ordered and her knight took a threatening step forward. Her eyes stopped on Leila, assessing, and Leila instinctively straightened.

"But my new friend is so excited to meet you. I can't make her upset, Your Highness. What would my beloved say?" Kaguya pouted. Were those actual tears in her eye?

Princess Cornelia pressed a finger against her temple. "How Lelouch can bear your company, I'll never know. Go. Just go. She can stay."

An ear-splitting shriek followed, and Kaguya pulled Leila into an overly enthusiastic hug. "Good luck!" Kaguya's lips brushed against her neck. She whispered, "Because he asked. Watch yourself."

Kaguya danced away, her eyes glittering in childish delight.

"Don't you dare to hug me," Princess Cornelia hissed as Kaguya took a half-step to her. "I will gut you where you stand."

"But you don't have a sword," Kaguya said, her lower lip thrust out in confusion. Her eyes widened and a smile crossed her face. "You can gut someone with a sword?"

"Um, Kaguya?" Leila said hesitantly. The sudden personality change baffled her. While Kaguya had offered her assistance, Princess Cornelia was slowly turning red. "Would you mind if I talked to General Cornelia alone?"

"Oh, of course! Absolutely!" Kaguya twirled around and stood on her tippy-toes, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Bye!"

Princess Cornelia sighed, running a hand down her face. "I never thought anyone could be so annoying."

"She wasn't as bad during dinner, General," Leila defended. "Prince Lelouch had a... calming effect on her?"

"He used to be just as bad," Princess Cornelia grumbled. "At least one of them is finally growing up. Better late than never, I guess. Has he been behaving himself?"

"He's very polite," Leila offered.

Princess Cornelia snorted. "When he wants something." Her posture relaxed marginally. "Need to work on your scowl. It keeps all the unwanted pests away. And the vultures are always flying at events like there. They're surrendering, and we're throwing them a farewell party. How ridiculous."

An unbidden chuckle escaped Leila. "They need the time to nurse their bruised egos. And the party gives the busy bodies something to do."

"At least you have some common sense. It's on the battlefield where hearts are laid bare. Definitely not here in this honey trap. Have you tasted the thrill of victory yet?" Princess Cornelia's eyes glistened. This was what Leila had imagined Empress Marrianne to be: constantly craving the thrill of the kill.

"Unfortunately not. I'm still too young. General Smilas has me study recent battles though."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. For now, my victory must be being at the top of my class," Leila answered.

"You're old enough. I saw my first battle when I was seven. And Lady Marianne was your age when she piloted the Ganymede into battle for the first time." Princess Cornelia shook her head. "I can never understand the French's hesitance to use the resources at your disposal. Instead, you waste away in a classroom or assist some senior officer with paperwork."

Nor could Leila understand Britannia's willingness to deploy children on the battlefield. She had heard the horror stories from the veterans as they described the age before knightmares. They would ambush supply trains and find them guarded by children barely capable of holding a rifle. Or take a unit prisoner, intent on gaining intelligence, only to discover they had to interrogate quivering children. There was an entire guidebook written on how to handle guilt after facing an underaged unit.

But Leila couldn't say that, instead she shrugged.

"Is General Smilas as grumpy as ever?" Princess Cornelia asked.

Leila laughed and saw an opportunity. "Zero at least has him gnashing his teeth."

"So are all of us. Father remains tightlipped as always despite the endless stream of questions." Princess Cornelia pursed her lips. "You would think he could at least trust those among us who've proven themselves on multiple occasions."

The displeasure felt real, and Leila bit her lip. Another dead end. How could no one in Britannia be certain of his identity? Especially if their intelligence suspected Zero of being the Fourth Prince?

"Do his tactics remind you of anyone?" Leila asked.

"Yes, a coward," Princess Cornelia declared.

"Efficient is more like it," Empress Marianne interrupted, stopping her wheelchair next to them. "Tired of the festivities already, Cornelia?"

"Before they even began, my lady," Cornelia answered. "Found your wayward son?"

"I did, but then I took my eyes off him for a second, and he was gone." Empress Marianne chuckled. "I would say he needs a bell, but he'd only take that as a challenge. I also need to find Miss Sumeragi and ask her, once more, to stop supplying him with wasabi."

"Was that the filling in the chocolates?"

"Yes," she said tiredly. "It wouldn't be a problem if Lelouch actually labeled them, but he and Nunnally enjoy the surprise. They call it palette cleansing of all things." Empress Marianne shook her head and turned to Leila. "Taking a reprieve as well, my dear?"

Leila nodded. "It's been a long night."

"Have you watched _Un Enfant et Trois Parents_?" Empress Marianne asked, referring to a soapy family drama on it's seventh season. Last Leila checked, they had been saved from cancellation by a mysteriously large donation. Behind her, Princess Cornelia fervently shook her head.

"No?"

"A pity. The season finale is tomorrow." Empress Marianne narrowed her eyes, spinning around to witness Princess Cornelia's drawing her finger over her neck. "Really? You're as bad as Charles."

"I think someone is waving to me," Leila said, her mind spinning from the idea that Empress Marianne followed french television, and slowly inched to the side to make an escape. With the Empress there, she had no chance to gather any more information about Zero.

"Stay," Empress Marianne ordered, "You're not dismissed."

Leila's throat tightened. "With all due respect, I'm not one of your subjects."

"Yet Britannian justice still found your parents," she said, her voice deceptively kind. For years, Britannia had denied being behind her parents' assassination despite the clear evidence. And Empress Marrianne had just casually admitted to it like one would remark on the weather. "I met your father once. He had a problem keeping his hands to himself and was ever so vocal in disapproval of me. He had a very narrow opinion of what a woman's role should be and would be furious to know his daughter joined the military."

Leila inhaled slowly. His warm hands gently stroked her hair as he whispered his love. My little snowflake, he had called her. His arms pulled her into a hug, screams echoing through the house, and he pushed her into Jeanne's arms, ordering them to leave and pressing a last kiss to both their foreheads.

Exhaling, Leila clenched her hands together behind her back and stared directly into the woman's eyes. "My father was a good man."

"Depends on your definition. He did betray his country." Empress Marianne rolled closer. "Your father was undoubtedly foolish to think he could escape. It's a miracle you survived. It would be a shame to change that. So show some respect, and tell me about yourself."

Empress Marianne hadn't come here to make small-talk with Princess Cornelia, but to interrogate Leila. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed various plainly dressed Britannians observing intently. It was a harrowing display of power. Mingled among the guests, an army waited for orders. If Leila turned around and walked away, would they cause a scene? Nobody would see her or hear her cries for help in the midst of a Britannian swarm. Or Empress Marianne might simply let her leave and order her death, just like her father's.

The ultimatum was clear. She had to give Empress Marrianne a reason why she should allow her to live. Leila could share her achievements in hope that would make her entertaining enough. But if she was seen as a potential threat, Empress Marianne would end her regardless.

Leila had spent the night surprised by how normal Empress Marianne seemed compared to the stories, unaware the Butcher lived beneath the surface, ready to come out at a moment's notice. And this woman before her was undoubtedly the Butcher, who General Smilas rightly feared.

"Ah, there you are," General Smilas interrupted, shoving Leila behind him and glowering at his enemy. "Pardon her. Curious young feet have a tendency to wander."

Empress Marianne's lips curled. "You should keep better track of your bait. Who knows what trouble she might find herself in. Although, I hear you have some of your own. Terrible business with your Secretary of Defense. Your intelligence seems to be woefully lacking."

"I am unfortunately preoccupied with the negotiations. Unlike your family, I do not treat it as a glorified vacation. Your son seems to have made it his mission to visit every casino."

"And what has your protege accomplished?" Empress Marianne bared her teeth. "My son has been negotiating fishing disputes because Schneizel considers it beneath him."

"Do you care for his safety so little?" General Smilas asked. A subtle flinch passed through Empress Marianne. "I prefer nurture over throwing children to the wolves. As I find Leila is perfectly willing to do whatever I ask of her, it's only my prudence which holds her back."

"Yet, while you wait, Zero continues to capture French spies, and our younger royals carve out power for themselves. You deny your youth essential experience due to your pesky moral sensibilities. Does time run backwards in the E.U?"

General Smilas always lambasted the E.U.'s inability to take decisive actions, and Leila knew the remark had landed home. Within a few minutes of meeting each other, both were at each other's throat. Prince Schneizel preferred to attack the E.U. itself, and General Smilas responded in kind. Here, it was personal.

"I forget, which one of us got shot in their home?" General Smilas retorted.

Empress Marianne's eyes darkened, and she leaned forward. "Did you hear your men beg as I cut them down? They call you a hero at home, but you ordered a retreat, leaving your comrades' blood to water the sand."

"Hello, Mother," Lelouch interrupted, positioning himself between the two and looking slightly disheveled. "I'm sure Schneizel would appreciate your presence. They're preparing to sign the treaty."

"You mean choosing the color of pen." Empress Marianne sniffed. "He doesn't need me."

They were drawing a small crowd of curious on-lookers from various nations, and Leila stepped even closer to General Smilas. Undoubtedly, the press would describe the encounter in great detail.

"Flippant as always, Marianne," General Smilas said. "You can't fulfill your duties as a knight, and now you don't fulfill those of an Empress."

Lelouch pinched his nose, and his eyes briefly met hers. "Mother, please?"

Princess Cornelia stepped forward. "This is by far the most exciting thing to happen all evening. Let your mother be, Lelouch."

"Perhaps if you didn't sulk in the corner, you would resolve your boredom instead of relying on others to do it for you," Lelouch shot back. Leila snorted. That was rather hypocritical given where she found him. "Mother, there are better uses of your time."

"Are you volunteering?" Empress Marianne asked, her predatory gaze landing on her son.

Shoulders sagging, Lelouch bitterly said, "Yes."

"Come on then," Empress Marianne ordered, smiling triumphantly. He followed, unusually subdued.

Watching the royals depart for the signing, Leila had the distinct impression that she had been used. Empress Marianne had wanted to find her son. When others avenues failed, she had turned to Leila, attacking her and beginning to cause a scene. After spending the entire evening avoiding his mother, and even escaping her clutches once, Lelouch had willingly approached and fallen into the trap. Leila had been merely a means to an end.

Although how had Empress Marianne known he would be watching her?

General Smilas dropped a hand on her shoulder. "It's time to leave."

"But, Yoan-"

"He didn't have the Butcher seek him out twice. He can figure it out. Relax." He approached the door, his gait beginning to sway, and when he talked to the guards, his words slurred. At last, they stepped outside. The fresh nighttime air enveloped her, and the cold sunk into her bones.

Whispering, he hurried her down the street. "What's his relationship with Miss Sumeragi?"

Leila scowled. "They're close. He made some snacks and sweets for her. I think they were Japanese. She also kept needling him about marriage, despite his displeasure, for some reason."

"Because it makes the other princes wary of proposing to her. If Prince Lelouch asks afterwards, the Emperor will most likely favor him over his siblings because of his mother. They don't want the humiliation of losing, and as long as she can make it seem he's remotely interested, they won't risk it. She is an enticing match as the official head of the Kyoto House with their business investments in Area Eleven. Sumeragi Industries specifically has a controlling interest in sakuradite mining."

Kaguya had been right; Leila misstepped by not knowing who she was.

"Too many underestimate her because of her childish act. They forget that she was ruthless enough to turn her father in for treason and use the situation to her advantage." General Smilas fell quiet as they passed a couple on the street. "How close?"

"They exchanged favors. Something about a shipment? And Kaguya was providing funding for something?"

Disturbed, General Smilas fell into a contemplative silence.

* * *

The day after the banquet, Leila waited in the meeting room, her body thrumming with restless energy. General Smilas's instructions echoed in the back of her head. As had become the norm in the past few weeks, Jeanne was entertaining Frederick in the city. They would stop for lunch near the set-up safehouse, and Leila would find a reason to excuse herself from the negotiations to trail after them. All she had to do was wait for the perfect opportunity and craft a narrative that would leave Frederick no other choice but to turn to the E.U.

He was steadfastly loyal to Lelouch; she knew that now. Her mouth tasted bitter. The operations would undoubtedly rely on blackmail. And if that wasn't enough, he would be surrendered to E.U. intelligence.

General Smilas's paranoia regarding Lelouch had reached new heights following the banquet. Between Empress Marianne and Kaguya, something had spooked him, and he was willing to risk angering Britannia to gain informations.

The door finally opened, and the enigmatic prince in question stumbled inside. Prince Schneizel snapped his pocket watch shut, glaring at his younger sibling. Lelouch ignored him, sunk into the chair, and rested his head against the table.

"Manners," Princess Guinevere hissed.

Blearily, Lelouch raised his head. "Good morning, General Smilas. Good morning, Leila. I apologize for my mother's behavior last night." Then he rested his head once more on the table and closed his eyes.

"Lelouch," Prince Schneizel hissed.

"You owe me," Lelouch mumbled. "Should've kept a better eye on your pet general." General Smilas bristled. "Least you can do is let me sleep."

True to his word, he fell asleep, and Leila watched in astonishment as a pale strand of hair rose and fell gently. His position couldn't be comfortable, but he didn't even react as Prince Schneizel dumped a new packet of papers on the table. He actually was... asleep.

An hour in, Leila finally dared to ask, "What happened?"

Prince Schneizel glanced at his brother. "Empress Marianne stayed in his quarters before departing this morning."

"I had to catch up on half a season, so we could watch the season finale this morning," he mumbled, not moving. "Two love triangles was bad enough. But now Clarise is a vampire? It doesn't make sense."

"Did you even sleep?" Princess Guinevere asked softly with a surprising amount of sympathy.

"No. That's the price for preventing her from making an international incident." He lifted his head, focusing on General Smilas. "Making that drivel is evil. We should hurry up and conquer the E.U. to stop my mother. Father is right, she's been infected. But then we'd lose the books." He frowned seriously, as if that was a serious offense. "It would be faster to buy them out or... we could put that in the treaty? Give them all the spies, and they stop making romantic.. stuff."

"Don't be ridiculous," Prince Schneizel snapped. "Father would never agree-"

"But he would." Prince Lelouch straightened, his right cheek red. "He hasn't caught up yet, so you just need to ask him immediately afterwards and-"

"You're done." Prince Schneizel hauled him out of the chair and pushed him to the door. "Where is your guard?"

"Oh, Henry? I told him to take the day off. Watching me sleep is boring, and Mother took the early flight to ditch all her guards, so now they're in my quarters and making a mess."

The door slammed shut and Prince Schneizel returned to his seat casually. General Smilas shot Leila a look, and she nodded. With Henry roaming free, she had to warn Jeanne. A confrontation with Frederick was inevitable.

"I think that's the first time I've heard him agree with Father," Princess Guinevere said, amused.

"Anyone would after sitting through one of her marathons." Prince Schneizel shuddered. "Fortunately, we don't decide national policy on sleep deprived, post-marathon ideas... most of the time at least. Although Father has no excuse, he married her despite knowing of her habits."

"And subjected the rest of us to his misery."

Leila scooted back her chair, the metal screeching over the floor. "If he's allowed to leave, can I?"

General Smilas waved his hand lazily, making a joke about kids being kids, but she was already out of the door, frantically texting.

After a quick change in the embassy, she slipped out the backdoor, double checking that her wig was secure. A gun, a taser, and a couple zip ties were hidden beneath her baggy sweater. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she stuffed her hands into her pockets as she casually walked down the street. A block away, she burst into a run, pulling out her phone to read Jeanne's message.

They hadn't made contact with Henry yet. How much of a head start did he have on her? Or maybe this was all for naught, and he would enjoy himself.

She shook her head. This was the easiest solution. The other options were more unsavory.

Nearing the street corner, she slowed down and fiddled with her phone, discreetly using it to check no one was following her. Espionage work was definitely not her thing. At least once this was done, she could return to her much simpler life at home. Her success would finally ease some of the suspicion and allow her a moment to relax, to not be the best. Empress Marianne's treacherous voice in her head whispered it would never be enough. They would only ever see a potential traitor.

Gritting her teeth, she stuffed her phone into her pocket and bought a pretzel. At the opposite end of the street, Jeanne clung to Frederick's arm, laughing. They turned into a smaller alleyway, and Leia ducked her head, slowly meandering after.

"You should see Paris. It's really the most beautiful city in the world." Jeanne's laughter echoed through the alleyway and Leila hung back, clicking through random apps on her phone. "Or maybe London would be more appropriate for yourself?"

"Jeanne... You know I can't. Britannia would never approve my visa. The only way is if the E.U. invites His Highness, and with tensions being what they are, that is very unlikely."

"Some are saying we have to go to war because the port belongs to Britannia now. I wish we weren't technically enemies."

Leila wished so as well. He and Lelouch had done nothing wrong but would suffer regardless. Their Britannian loyalty condemned them. She couldn't even fault them for it; they knew nothing else.

"You could return home with me," Frederick offered. "You'd be safe at least."

"I can't leave, Leila. You know that," Jeanne said softly.

"Just like I can't leave Lelouch." Frederick laughed. "He'd get himself shot within a week."

Footsteps approached, and a low voice growled, "Frederick." Henry had finally arrived. "This has gone on long enough."

Leila sneaked closer, her hand drifting inside her pocket. Peeking around the corner, she saw Frederick raising his arms and backing away slowly.

"Calm down. Nothing is happening. We're just hanging out."

"She's with the Malcal girl and undoubtedly using you. If this is nothing, then say goodbye, and never see her again," Henry said.

"Lelouch knows. I've done nothing wrong." Frederick stepped forward. "You pestering me was fine when it was in private. But doing this here? Trying to threaten me? And now leaving Lelouch alone because I doubt he is hiding behind the corner? You forget your duty. Lelouch can reprimand me himself if he has a problem. Let's go, Jeanne."

Leila bit back a curse, seeing Frederick turn to leave. Henry was volatile, a rabid dog, yet he stood there, frozen. If this was it, the window of opportunity was closing fast.

"You know nothing of duty," Henry spat. "What do you think the Emperor will do when he learns of this? Not to you, but Lelouch because he will beg for your life."

Frederick paused. When he spoke, his voice was pained. "The next time, it'll be another thing. And again, the time after that. There will always be another thing. Lelouch knows the risks, yet he still allowed this. We can't live constantly looking over our shoulders, wondering what His Majesty does and doesn't know."

"You don't understand! Let's go before it's too late." Henry raised his hands. "I'm not letting you walk away."

"You're being ridiculous. We're done." Frederick turned around, extending a hand to Jeanne.

Growling, Henry rushed forward, his arm extended. Frederick ducked at the last second, grabbing his hands and restraining him. "What the hell, Henry!" Two seconds later, Henry had thrown him over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground with a sickening thump. A knee pressed into his stomach, and when Jeanne took a hesitant step forward, Henry pointed his gun at her.

"Back away," he ordered.

"Leave her out of this!" Frederick snapped, twisting his body and dragging Henry to the ground beside him. The gun clattered across the ground, sliding to a stop near Leila's hiding place.

As the two grappled, Leila raised her taser, trying to line up a clear shot. She would have five seconds after firing.

Stumbling backwards, Frederick wiped his bloody nose. He settled into a firm stance and smirked. Henry slowly circled, disheveled, but uninjured. The two waited, their chests heaving in sync. At an unspoken signal, Henry rushed forward, a kick glancing off his torso, and parried the punch to his face. He grabbed the offending limb, and Leila saw the moment Frederick lost, the arm twisting backwards at an unnatural angle.

With a pained cry, Frederick fell to the ground.

"You forgot I always win," Henry said.

The taser flew true. Henry collapsed to the ground, twitching. Three seconds later, he was secured, hands tied behind his back, and they could all breathe once more.

Frederick straightened, his right eye beginning to swell but not hiding his horror. "Why the hell did you do that? They'll think..."

"Traitor," Henry growled. "This is how you repay his kindness? I should've killed you instead of giving you a chance."

"No," Frederick whispered. His breaths quickened and the blood resumed its steady drip from his nose. His eyes darted around the alleyway. But there were no other witnesses. It was his word against Henry's. And Henry didn't have a family history of treason. "This is all a mistake."

"Getting caught?" Henry bared his teeth. "Just you wait. When the Emperor finds out, your family will never see the light of day again."

Shaking his head, Frederick stumbled backwards, putting distance between him and Jeanne. His back pressed against the wall, and he flinched as Jeanne approached.

"We can protect them," Jeanne promised. "We'll get this all sorted out. Nobody has to die. Come on."

Jeanne blotted his bleeding nose and draped her jacket across his shoulder. Slowly, his catatonic form responded to her whispered assurances, blindly trusting her. When the shock wore off, and he finally regained his senses, he would be livid. They had betrayed him, forced him into a corner. The only path forward was to commit the crime he'd been accused of: treason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- There's a programming language known as Chef. Programs written in it look like recipes and create actual food. It seems like something Lelouch would have a blast with. Other esoteric programming languages include the infamous Shakespeare (everything looks like a play and it results in hilarious lines such as: "You are as villainous as the square root of Romeo!"), Whitespace (it's entirely composed of tabs vs spaces…), and Rockstar (everything is hard rock or power ballad lyrics. Most created to mess with recruiters looking for "rockstar" developers). XD
> 
> \- Tasers don't actually knock people out. People are left unable to move for the 5 seconds the taser is on. After that, they're free to go. Adrenaline can actually make it harder to subdue someone afterwards. Curse you, movie for inaccuracies.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> *Innocent whistling*
> 
> I feel bad about the cliffhanger, the next chapter is a bit shorter than the norm, and some people voted for an early update… So there'll be an update next week. The fact that I've been dying of anticipation has absolutely nothing to do with the slightly early update and next week's. Absolutely nothing at all. XD
> 
> Leave a comment on your way out. :) 
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing


	10. Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur
> 
> Recap: Leila arranges the situation to make it look like Frederick betrayed Lelouch.

_The Cameron Protests, as they are now known, started with a seemingly insignificant march on May 11, 2017. The news of Andrew Cameron's apparent suicide dropped, and a group of students at Ashford Academy took to the streets to demand a proper investigation. In the past, many such public displays of disapproval were easily quenched. What made this one unique was the high percentage of noble heirs and heiresses who joined. The Purists, who were tasked with maintaining public order, could not make any overt moves without undermining their own public platform. The assembled gathering attracted common citizens throughout the day. Personal accounts describe a mood of comradery as the students peacefully entertained themselves but refused to leave. The public screening of Mr. Cameron's films and free food lured in more moderate citizens. The march was eventually dispelled in the evening as the Knight Police finally followed through on their threats and used tear gas._

_Because many students were from affluent backgrounds and had a sheltered upbringing, the use of force surprised them. Their demands for justice encouraged them to come together around the student president, Lady Milly Ashford, and soon a group called the Lotus Guardians emerged. The Lotus Guardians helped organize students and the larger community to peacefully protest while running smear campaigns online. Encouraged by their success, numerous groups sprung up throughout Area Eleven, while other established groups began to adapt the Lotus Guardian's tactics for their own purpose. Of note is the Blood of the Samurai and Josui Kusakabe who used devastating terror attacks to publicly broadcast his rallying cries..._

— _Social Movements in the Britannian Empire_

* * *

**Neutral District, Australia**

The safehouse was located a few blocks from the embassy, close enough to easily be reached in case of an emergency, but far away enough to avoid suspicion. Under a pseudonym, Leila had rented a storage room below a loud bar to cover any unfortunate noise. The side entrance to the basement came out in a deserted alleyway, allowing them to enter without drawing attention. In the past few weeks, they had slowly moved in and out various packages to ensure that the owner, when questioned, would believe their enterprise to be legitimate.

Leila closed the door behind them, sealing them within. On the ground, Henry had ceased struggling, instead choosing to watch them suspiciously. His eyes tracked her as she helped Jeanne settle Frederick in the corner and brought him a cup of warm tea. He accepted it hesitantly, the hot water sloshing over the brim as his hand trembled.

"What are we doing with Henry?" Jeanne whispered, pulling her aside.

"We'll leave him here. Either he'll escape on his own, or someone will find him." Leila swallowed, not liking the next part of the plan. If only Frederick hadn't been so loyal. "He'll tell the Brits what happened, and Frederick won't have a choice anymore."

Jeanne nibbled on her lower lip. "We're getting his family out?"

"General Smilas already has a team prepared," Leila assured. "Go make sure he is secure. I'm not sure we'll be able to subdue him again, especially if Fredrick comes to his senses and decides to help."

Jeanne nodded tightly and checked Henry's bonds before hauling him to his feet and leading him further away.

"Is this what you fucking wanted?" Henry shouted, twisting his head. "She's only using you to get to him! You're going to spit on everything? Hurt him?"

Frederick surged to his feet. "I would never!"

Leila hushed him, pulling him back into his seat. "It's alright."

"I would never," he whispered. "I'd never hurt him. This is all just a big misunderstanding. He has to understand. I'd never—" He stood again, and Leila watched him silently pace, guilt eating away at her. "I... I need to go. Just let me talk to him."

"Henry won't believe you," Leila said. "He searched for you because he was suspicious. He would've already told Prince Lelouch. Why else would he leave his side?"

"But—" He sank into his seat again, cradling his head. "Lelouch wouldn't. He'd ask... say something. Wouldn't he?" He raised his head, staring at her desperately "We can go to him. Explain everything. He'll understand."

Leila slowly sat down, grimacing. "Is he the one you have to convince?"

Frederick paled and his hands trembled again. "The Emperor..."

"You need to consider your family. We have the resources to help them. All you have to do is ask."

He glared. "And sell out Lelouch? Spill his secrets? I'm not a traitor. This is all your damn fault. Henry tried to warn me... Is Jeanne ever her real name?"

"I didn't lie," Jeanne said, settling down on a box across from them. "My mother defected when Leila's father did. I recognized you from a picture your mother sent. Please... Just listen."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Frederick spat. He sagged, closing his eyes. "You won't let me leave until you get what you want. Just... do your thing."

Leila flinched. "We won't hurt you. You have my word. We don't stoop to Britannian's level."

He laughed. "Then you're delusional. Is that what General Smilas told you? I surrender myself to E.U. custody, you'll save my family, and I'll be a happy French citizen?"

"Yes," she said. "We've done this before. It's not a lie, regardless of what Britannia has told you. There are procedures in place to protect you and your family. General Smilas has everything set to extract your family. You don't even need to tell us anything. It's enough if you ask." Because it would be definite treason that he'd never be able to erase

"Why go to all this trouble?" He was stalling. A standard tactic in hostage situations. But no one knew he was gone. He and Jeanne often spent the whole day together. And even if they started looking, they would have no idea where to search.

Still, she answered truthfully. If she wanted his cooperation, he needed to trust her. "Prince Lelouch's file is a giant question mark. Anyone knowing anything concrete is valuable." She smiled gently, settling her hand on his knee. "Your knowledge and insights would help you negotiate a fine life within the E.U. A better one than Britannia would ever provide."

Jeanne's phone buzzed. "General Smilas acknowledged. There's an agent on 7th he wants me to meet to lay a false trail."

"I'll be fine." Leila rose, grabbing an additional zip tie. "I'm sorry. But I can't take any chances."

He scoffed, but complied. He was outnumbered and out armed. Jeanne left soon afterwards, the door swinging shut behind her and the lock clicking as she trapped them inside. Leila didn't have a key. If somehow Henry or Frederick overpowered her, they would still be unable to leave.

"You're not going to win," Frederick whispered.

"Why?" She already had.

"Because Lelouch never loses." Frederick chuckled. "You wouldn't believe the truth even if I told you. So kidnap me, throw me in a dark cell, and torture me. It'll bring you nothing but his relentless rage. He'll hate me for my apparent betrayal, but he'll hate you more. And you have no idea how long he can nurse a grudge. Maybe I'll live long enough to have the pleasure of seeing you destroyed."

He was delusional. She had seen Lelouch lose plenty of times. From gambling on chess and losing hefty sums to his little games with Kaguya the night before. He took his losses well, always ruefully shaking his head and announcing that next time he would do better. She had seen him help a trembling servant who had accidentally run into him and collect the scattered items across the floor. His two siblings would've demanded some form of punishment.

Did this belief stem from the Britannians' ridiculous worship of the royals?

Lelouch was a good person, she knew that. There were inconsistencies and anomalies but his kindness couldn't be faked. She refused to consider that everything was a lie. No one was such a good liar. The mask would've fractured at some point. He even shared the name of a dear friend.

"There's no one coming you know," Leila said. "Even if the Britannians suspect us, they can't prove it. If you remain steadfast, you'll disappear without a trace, but Britannia will assume you defected regardless. Is your loyalty worth that much to you? To sacrifice your life? And your family's?"

Frederick didn't say anything, merely hanging his head. His brow furrowed. Slowly, he raised his head. "How long were you spying on me and Lelouch?"

"Since the moment he stepped into the city naturally. General Smilas ordered some agents to follow you specifically after we learned of you."

Whatever Frederick was going to say was cut off by three slow and deliberate claps. Drawing her gun, Leila leapt to her feet. Lelouch—no, Prince Lelouch because Leila was beginning to realize she had made a grave miscalculation—emerged from behind the crates. He tucked away a black recorder with one hand, the other pointing a gun at her chest.

"Oh, thank God," Frederick whispered, sagging in his chair.

"I must thank you for confirming those tidbits. I'll be sure to put them to good use." He turned to Frederick. "Although you could've hurried up in asking that question. I was beginning to worry that you had forgotten. And Henry! Get your ass over here. Getting free is child play for you." He gestured at the chair. "You're not going to shoot me. It'd be the perfect excuse for Britannia to finally declare war. Then Henry will kill you but not quite, and drag you before my parents so you can face their wrath."

The back of her neck prickled as she searched his face, looking for his familiar soft smile and amused eyes. Any moment now, his stony exterior would crack, and he would make a funny quip, laughing this all off as a bad joke. But he didn't and she could hear soft footsteps approaching from behind. If he was angry, she would've understood. She had attacked his friend and tried to coerce him into committing treason. But he wasn't. He looked at her as if she didn't exist. As if her actions were completely beneath his notice.

Henry's hand slammed into her arm, forcing her to drop the gun, and he twisted her hands behind her back. She struggled against his grip, but the ever increasing pressure on her elbow promised he would break it if she continued.

Prince Lelouch didn't react except for a small nod. "You can let her go, Henry. She'll behave, right?"

Outnumbered, she nodded. A quick glare silenced Henry's protest, and he stepped back after relieving her of her phone and spare knife. She massaged her elbow in an attempt to ease the aching burn. With a little more pressure, he would've snapped it like a twig. It spoke of experience, and she swallowed nervously.

"Sit, I insist." The boy she had come to know over the past months was gone, replaced by what she expected of a royal: imperious, ruthless, and unrelenting.

Bowing her head, she settled back on the chair. Now, it was her turn to buy for time. Her only hope was to wait for Jeanne's return. Hope an agent accompanied her, and they'd be able to subdue his guards.

At the beginning of the day, Prince Lelouch had been beset by fatigue. Dark eye bags had marred his porcelain skin, and he bared his neck to his enemies, falling asleep on the table. Now, he moved with the grace of a predator, leaning against the crates to assess her. Despite his relaxed posture, his eyes were alert, a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

Who had she met before? Where was the boy who cooked and brushed off insults with practiced ease, an amused smile never leaving his face? Who had knelt on the floor behind the potted tree with her yesterday? Where had his compassion and kindness gone?

How could anyone lie for months so well?

There had to be something she missed. A clue. Anything. But within the relentless barrage of memories, she only found overwhelming evidence that the prince before her could not exist. Yet he did, and he held the gun.

Prince Lelouch checked his watch and frowned. "You really took your time, Frederick. I do have a meeting this afternoon. Henry, mind letting him free?"

"He betrayed you," Henry said. "He was going to sell you out. You said—"

"I would never," Frederick shouted, surging forward. "You atta—"

"I lied," Prince Lelouch said. "You cannot seriously believe he would ever betray me, especially since I'm here."

Royals were a paranoid lot, expecting betrayal at every turn, but Prince Lelouch stated it as one would say the sky was blue, or water was wet. Even Frederick looked surprised at the overture of trust.

"How can you be so sure?" Henry asked, still rooted to his spot. "That girl was practically hanging from his arm, trying to seduce him. They told people they were a couple!"

Prince Lelouch tilted his head, his eyes never leaving Henry. "Because Frederick is very much gay..."

Frederick had never mentioned anything, brushing off questions regarding his love life with excuses about never having the time. As a guard, he didn't have the opportunity to often meet people acceptable to pursue. And Prince Lelouch tended to travel a fair share, making it hard to keep in touch. Leila had thought nothing of it.

"If he was going to defect for some long lost relative, he would at least have shared what happened to Edgar." His hand gestured to Leila, and Frederick took a shuddering breath. "She didn't even recognize his name."

The name had been shared like it was a secret. She had thought it was a sign of trust. Instead, it had been another lie, a way to test what she knew and confirm the loyalty of his guard. Even there, in the midst of casual conversation, Prince Lelouch lurked beneath the mask, manipulating her.

Her hands trembled, and she folded them together in her lap. Everything had been an act, and she—too optimistic, too trusting, too much of a fool—fell into his web, becoming hopelessly entangled and oblivious to it all. General Smilas had been right. His paranoia born from experience, even when their eyes deceived them.

"I don't—" Henry whispered.

Prince Lelouch flashed a series of hand signals, alien to the ones the Britannian military used. Henry returned them, a silent conversation passing between them. Afterwards, Henry bowed his head and finally cut Frederick free as Prince Lelouch watched with a slight frown.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but you could've told me," Frederick whined, massaging his wrist. "Henry scared me half to death."

"Or me," Henry grumbled.

At least they hadn't been lying as well.

"Your acting abilities are subpar," Prince Lelouch answered, his gaze swinging her way. "Now—"

"I'm not telling you anything." Leila raised her chin, her hands buried in the folds of the sweater to hide the tremors. Unlike her, Prince Lelouch would have no qualms torturing her. She knew well enough what Britannia did to its enemies and even its own people.

"You already told me everything I need to know. Your paltry information is worthless." He turned around, carefully navigating his way through the various crates.

She grit her teeth, frustrated by his sheer gall. She was a military officer, trained in hand to hand combat, yet he ignored her. "Then I'm going!"

Henry shoved her back into her seat.

"No bruises," Prince Lelouch called from behind her. Why? What did he need her for? Wasn't this humiliation enough?

Seeing him return, three tubes tucked beneath his arm, her heart began to pound. No. He wasn't done.

"I'll never betray the E.U.," she hissed because that was the only option which existed. "I'd rather die."

"And I'm not asking you to." He pulled out a crate, turning it into a makeshift table. On it, he set down a silver key, the pattern reminiscent of the one Jeanne took with her. Lastly, he unloaded his burden and sat down across from her, crossing his legs.

Finally, he looked at her. Nothing could hide from his unrelenting gaze as it dissected her.

"I'm merely giving you an option. I have a meeting with General Smilas in a little over an hour. I will present a treaty amenable to him. It's a one-day offer, and he'll agree or piss off the Middle Eastern Federation and the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan Democratic Kingdom. A move he cannot make with Britannia's oil exports halting." He leaned forward, grabbing her phone from Henry and unlocking it. He smiled at her horror and sent a quick text. "He believes you have everything well in-hand here. Frederick, after all, just accepted the E.U.'s _protection._ For once, he should at least be in a good mood in my presence."

No... By sending the text message, he ensured that their agents would move to grab Frederick's family. A small smirk played on his lips. They were walking into a trap; he had predicted their every move.

"The only task which remains is for you to decide which treaty I present." His fingers ghosted over one of the tubes on the crate. "Either one works for the Emperor and myself. But since one does concern your best friend, I thought it would be kind to let you choose."

"What does Britannia want with Jeanne?" Leila asked. Was this simply his revenge for trying to poach one of his guards?

"Her and her mother actually. They did defect, and regardless of how much time has passed, the punishment is death."

Frederick twisted his head, his eyes wide as he stared at Lelouch. It was a bitter comfort. He hadn't known that detail either. She waited for him to say something and protest. But he composed himself, only the stiff lines of his shoulder betraying his anger.

Friends, right? He didn't even dare to voice his opinion.

"They're French citizens. General Smilas would never hand them over." Leila hated how her voice quivered.

"And nobodies. The spies we would return are infinitely more valuable. The death of a servant and her daughter is a small price to pay."

No...

General Smilas would. He was practical that way.

"The Emperor would never agree." It had to be a bluff. "You said it yourself; they're nobodies. Britannia wouldn't care."

He smiled, his eyes cold, and the jaws of the trap tightened around her. "But when the news leaks? Think of the scandal. The E.U. discarded two loyal French citizens to gain a minor piece of land. Your government is always beholden to the chaotic sentiment of public opinion. And then it will come out that Britannia offered another option, repeatedly. The return of the Bresigau heir."

Her breath caught.

"They will ask why did the E.U. refuse for three long years, but when asked for not one, but two simple commoners, the E.U. acquiesced immediately. Everyone loves a good story. So they will wonder why them and not her? What makes them so different? Maybe it's that one has an illustrious military career ahead of her? Perhaps that isn't so bad. But is she really worth two lives? Especially because Britannia didn't demand her for execution. She would've lived."

Since when had she become a piece on the negotiation table? A life to be bartered away among the prisoners of war.

"Oh, General Smilas didn't inform you," Prince Lelouch said in mock pity.

No. They had discussed possible assassination attempts because of her parents' treason, but not this.

"You should've seen how angry my siblings were after General Smilas introduced you. They had been requesting your return since the beginning, and General Smilas dangled you before us, baiting Britannia to move against you in a rash decision. He wanted us to send an assassin and use that to gain the upper hand in the negotiations. Your life was an acceptable risk."

"He wouldn't," Leila snarled. He had always been in the background of her life, offering gentle reassurances and sharing tales of her parents when they met. The Malcals may have taken her in, but they never supported her, not like General Smilas did.

"But he did. He clawed his way to the top despite having no family connections. Ambition has defined every moment of his life. You're simply another means to the end."

The words tore into her relentlessly. Accusation and speculations shredding her beliefs. General Smilas only took interest in her because of her wealth. He pushed her into the military, framed it as her father's wish, because he needed someone young and impressionable on his side. He was the one to suggest her engagement with Yoan to tie her more closely to the E.U. When she had stumbled on exams, he had pushed through extenuating circumstances to allow her to retake them and wipe the flaw from her record. His friend was the one who accused her of having misplaced sympathies when she had briefly considered another career.

Every detail of her life was laid bare, presented with elegant care and warped beyond recognition. The relentless barrage never subsided long enough to give her a moment to think. The moment she wrapped her mind around one accusation, he had moved onto the next.

She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat.

Her father hadn't betrayed Britannia out of a sense of moral duty. He had been just as complicit. Numbers worked next to labor prisoners, mining coal and precious ores from deep veins. At least for the Britannian prisoners, he put in the minimum effort to uphold safety regulations. The Numbers weren't as lucky, buried en masse in multiple cave-ins. When the miners began coughing, developing black lung disease, he ordered them back in.

Moral? Righteous?

He only paid lip-service to those issues when he realized the veins were beginning to run dry. He had multiple standing obligations with other lords he could no longer meet. He cried about human dignity while children on his land starved. It was only an excuse to explain his reduced exports. And then the E.U. came whispering. Maybe without them, he could have turned everything around, but they were offering money and security.

The new Emperor didn't like him. He could build a new life. Reinvest his money, begin a new firm. Join the French elites and become a symbol of justice. Why wouldn't he leave?

Leila clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. But she could still hear the damning words. Prince Lelouch was lying. He had to be. She knew her father. Remembered his kindness, and how one Christmas Evening, he had gone out of the way to help a beggar on the street and offered to let him stay the night in their home.

That wasn't the man who could've done any of those things he claimed.

She knew her truth. She clutched it close to her chest. She refused to surrender it to the storm.

General Smilas had seen her potential and chosen to nurture it. He was ruthless and pragmatic, but not a liar. Her parents had been good people brimming with kindness. She was loyal to the E.U.

"Breisgau," he called her again and her jaw ached. How she despised the name. Malcal. That was her name. She had no connection to that remnant of her Britannian heritage.

Prince Lelouch paused, having somehow crossed the space between them. His hand settled on her shoulder, calm and steady, unlike her. "They all had an incentive to lie to you. All bar one, Jeanne. Unfortunately for her, she's not worth protecting."

"You—" Leila rose halfway and froze as Henry pinned her with a glare. Frederick, who had before listened stoically with his eyes squeezed shut, had risen as well to stop her. Jeanne was his family, yet he was helping the prince. "You utter coward," she snarled. "He's going to kill her! And you're doing nothing."

"I serve my prince," Frederick said dully. "A Britannian would understand."

Yes, she was French. Not one of them.

"You're lying," Leila said. Prince Lelouch looked amused. "You have nothing. The Emperor would never—"

"Do you want to see the official seal?" he asked and pulled out a lengthy scroll from one of the tubes. At the bottom, the Emperor's seal glistened, accompanied by his signature in shimmering ink. Prince Lelouch pointed to the relevant line, Jeanne's name clearly visible. "I'm not in the habit of bluffing, Breisgau. Her extradition and execution will sow chaos within the E.U. Confusion, at first. And then the outrage. A disorganized enemy chasing its own tail is worth a few meager prisoners."

Leila stared at the treaty. Her eyes scanned the words again. And then the Emperor's signature for a hint of forgery. Nothing changed. Everything was legitimate.

If Jeanne was here, she would be shouting at her for her next move. She would say she was an acceptable sacrifice. That the E.U. could withstand her loss. Casualties occurred on the battlefield, this was no different. But it was.

The press would ask questions. Leila had never hid her heritage, but hadn't advertised it either. They would learn of the Breisgau name, and then the accusations would come in.

Two children of traitors: one the child of a commoner, the other of a noble.

People would claim the E.U. had a bias to her. That they still respected the antiquated system of nobility and adhered to its rules. It would shake people's trust in the government which was exactly what Britannia wanted.

And Jeanne would be dead.

The trap snapped shut.

She hung her head. "The other option?"

"The exact same treaty without demanding Jeanne and her mother's extradition." Prince Lelouch pulled out a stack of papers from the last tube. "You merely need to sign. Afterwards, I'll even let you rip the treaty to shreds."

The words swam before her eyes and the curled edges of the papers fought her grip. There were countless clauses and clarifications. Each one dictating what she could and couldn't do. They were all pointless, obfuscating the purpose: her surrender.

"I won't betray the E.U.," Leila reaffirmed. A treacherous part of her asked what she owed them if they would so easily sell out her friend.

"I wouldn't expect you to. You've only known the E.U. your entire life and have been fed lies about Britannia," Prince Lelouch said.

"Lies?" she scoffed. "You want to talk about lying, right now? You? I thought you were better than them, but that was a lie as well. You're Britannian as they come. Using people for your own advantage and discarding them on a whim. Your entire being is a lie. Your every action. Your very breath! They're all lies. And you want to say Britannia is better? Convince me? Let's call it what it is: blackmail."

Prince Lelouch pulled out a pen, extending it to her. "You started this game, Breisgau. You were the one to ignore common sense and trust the person sitting across the negotiation table from you. Then, you set the rules by having Jeanne foolishly make contact. Targeting one of the embassy's staff would have been a wiser decision. Frederick is part of my royal guard. He told me the minute he could. After every one of your little outings, he wrote a report for me with every minute detail. Perhaps it would've been wiser to not pass this block so frequently. Finding your safehouse was ridiculously easy, a simple process of elimination. A child could've done it."

"Easy? You used—" A lump lodged in her throat, and she swallowed painfully. "—used me. And Jeanne, Henry, even Frederick. What possible justification could you have? And bringing Jeanne into this? Holding her life over my head? You—"

"No," he cut her off. "You did this. None of this would've worked had you not so foolishly leaped at the bait I offered. I even warned you. As I said, we royals are very protective of our own. You brought this on yourself. Now, sign."

She snatched the pen out of his outstretched hand and flipped through the pages, finding the dotted lines which required her signature. She would fight this. Mere words would not hold her tongue or prevent her from doing what was right. For now, her pen scrawled across the page to free Jeanne from Leila's foolishness.

"Show me the other treaty," she ordered, clinging onto the signed papers.

"I keep my word," the liar said. He unrolled the other document. Jeanne's name didn't appear once. Picking up the daming treaty, he extended it to her in one hand. "Trade?"

She ripped it out of his hands and shredded it to pieces. Prince Lelouch watched, expressionless. Her eyes landed on Jeanne's name, the strip fluttering to the ground. Defiantly, she picked it up and stuffed it into her pocket to guard.

"Henry, Frederick. Don't kill each other and watch her. Escort her to the airport in three hours."

"It's not safe," Frederick protested, his previous anger clearly forgotten. She had never seen anything more pathetic.

Prince Lelouch chuckled. "My mother doesn't ditch her guards. At least, anymore. Although the one outside is probably getting rather impatient. If she makes a run for it, remember no bruises."

"Yes, Your Highness," Frederick and Henry said.

He turned to her solemnly. Slightly inclining his head, he said, "Welcome to Britannia, Lady Breisgau."

Leila had never hated anyone more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> A shorter chapter but it deserved to stand on its own. And with this Act 1 is basically done. It only took me ~85k words or the length of a normal novel. I'm clearly not winning any awards for brevity any time soon. XD
> 
> Anyways, the Lelouch/Leila ship is currently on fire. A bunch of other stuff is soaked in gasoline. Nunnally is playing with matches. Clovis is sitting on a powder keg. Zero/Lelouch is earning himself too many bullseyes. And canon starts in August (it's currently May in Excalibur)... How's the pacing?
> 
> Next update will be in two weeks on Friday/Saturday, but you'll hopefully see me sooner with a one-shot on Valentine's day which is why I updated earlier in the week.
> 
> Reviews, criticism, reactions, keyboard smashes are always appreciated and writing fuel. :)
> 
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> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing


	11. A Victory or a Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
> Lelouch bent his knee to his father to protect those he loved, but expectations continue to rise. Meanwhile, his sister, Nunnally flirts with radicalism and their secrets begin to unravel. Unknown to them, their parents’ sins threaten to throw awry well laid plans. Book 2 of Excalibur

_Lelouch vi Britannia has garnered much criticism over the years for his role in the Treaty of Djibouti. At the time, the treaty was lauded for stabilizing trade within the Red Sea and was incredibly popular throughout the world. Some saw it as a sign of peace. As agreed upon in the treaty, Britannia leased the port city, Djibouti, to the Middle Eastern Federation and allowed them to maintain the status quo with the stipulation that Britannian ships could not be barred from entry. Lacking a strong military, the MEF contracted the EU to run security and ensure Britannia abided by the negotiated terms. Unfortunately, this arrangement angered the Chinese Federation, who was now entirely dependent on the MEF's goodwill without any leverage. Britannia's sudden shift from an oil exporter to importer also caused oil prices to soar and put additional strain on the Chinese economy. Meanwhile, the EU had similar difficulties as Russian oligarchs were caught in existing contracts with Britannian and Australian companies._

_Whether the treaty is responsible for the Great War is a matter of historical debate, but it accelerated developing tensions. Money flowed from both countries to the MEF, and then to Britannia, slowly starving them. Without the treaty, Britannia would probably have continued to slowly expand until both the EU and the CF allied to oppose the encroaching empire. Coupled with soaring oil prices, the treaty pitted what should have been allies against each other. At least indirectly, Lelouch vi Britannia created the necessary conditions for a three way war. Whether he knew what the consequences would be is up to debate._

- _On the Great War_

* * *

**Royal Palace, New Pendragon, Area Three**

Lelouch sank to his knees, his left arm crossing his chest. "Your Majesty. I have concluded the negotiations with the E.U."

His words echoed through the vast chamber, but he didn't dare to look away from the soft red velvet carpet. In front of him were the worn imprints where others had knelt before the Emperor as well. The carpet would soon have to be replaced as the discoloration became more obvious.

The last time he had knelt, his father had called his performance satisfactory before asking about Nunnally and leaving him stranded in Australia, his expectations unclear. Now, Lelouch would once again be judged, and he could only hope Nunnally would be left out of it.

"You concluded the negotiations quickly," his father said. The air felt tense. "There were no complications?"

"No, Your Majesty," Lelouch said. Everything had gone according to plan, for once, except for Henry's strange inability to recall Edgar. It wasn't something his father would concern himself with.

"You took an unnecessary gamble bluffing with the servant girl. Breisgau could have called your bluff, and Britannia would have been forced to follow through, discarding valuable assets for no benefit."

Lelouch bristled at the hint of censure. "It would have been a minor complication. The former Lord Breisgau had an affair. Had Jeanne returned to Britannia instead, we could have recognized her as a legitimate child. Since she's the eldest, her claim would be undisputable, and the Australian Banks would bar Malcal from accessing her father's vault."

A servant girl uprooting her life to follow her lord out of a sense of duty had felt strange, especially when the others hadn't followed. Jeanne had been born a scant few months after his defection. To confirm, he had sent a loose strand of hair from both Jeanne and Leila to Kaguya to run a genetic test.

"I don't gamble, Your Majesty," Lelouch said. He didn't have the luxury to play dice when lives hung on the outcome.

His father snorted. "But you toyed with the Breisgau girl's heart."

"She was my enemy," Lelouch said dully.

"So you had no problems manipulating her as such?"

"General Smilas revealed his hand by approaching Frederick. Her involvement was a near guarantee once I appeared to lower my guard around her."

"She regarded you as more than a cordial negotiator."

Lelouch frowned. "Your Majesty?"

He had approached her like any other spy. The first step was to establish a rapport in a neutral setting. Their various run-ins on the street and in the gentleman club had been carefully designed to do that. She had learned of his carefully manufactured routine and disregarded it, allowing him to engage in secondary objectives without incurring suspicion. His thrown chess games kept Schneizel off his back, but more importantly allowed him to assess how she would react in a situation. The waiters had been easily bribed to craft each scenario.

She never made a rash move, instead choosing to wait until forced otherwise. Her sense of duty and morals meant that bribes were useless. She also always saw the good in others first and continued to believe so until presented evidence to the contrary.

After rapport, history and leverage always came next. Everyone had elements of their life carefully kept hidden. Not only did they reveal personal information, but when brought to light, they left the target unbalanced. It was easy enough to cherry-pick the necessary evidence to craft a damaging narrative. The OSI files on her father had been of immense help.

Once the target was vulnerable, lost and confused, he threw out a life line. Their desperate hands always blindly grabbed it. With it, he could buy one action. Eventually, the target recovered, but by then, it was too late.

"Your mother was right," his father said. "You are rather dense."

"Have I missed anything, Your Majesty?" Lelouch asked hesitantly. His plan had been executed flawlessly.

"Nothing of great importance. Your conduct though has drawn the ire of your numerous siblings. Being flippant is a luxury afforded only to your alter ego. You have an image to uphold."

"And how should I conduct myself?"

"Careful, Lelouch," his father warned, and Lelouch bared his neck further. "You left a favorable impression among the locals and foreign dignitaries, who in turn, have been talking to reporters. Do not let pleasantries be mistaken for weakness. A royal is first and foremost ruthless, then dignified, which your childish games are certainly not."

His mother had definitely complained about his conduct with Kaguya. Or perhaps it had been Schneizel remarking on his sleep deprived act.

"Understood, Your Majesty," Lelouch said.

"Still, your plan has helped ease the tensions with the MEF, and once the news breaks to the Chinese, their ire will focus on the E.U. While Schneizel and Guinevere may have played their part to perfection, their performance failed to benefit Britannia, only themselves. Rise, Lelouch. You did well."

Lelouch followed the order robotically, the praise reverberating in his ears and drowning out the painful pounding of his heart. Acceptable or decent meant his father wasn't displeased. Satisfactorily suggested he wished for more, but the objectives had been met. What the hell did "well" mean?

Was this the new standard that Lelouch had set for himself? Every future plan and success would be measured against this one. His father had said satisfactorily before. He wouldn't be allowed to return to his manageable pace.

Or was he lying? Being sarcastic?

"A reward is customary in these instances," his father said, his heavy hand dropping on his shoulder. Lelouch's heart rate spiked. He had zoned out, before his father, while he was speaking of all things. Worst was the hand. It just rested there, not biting his skin or pushing him somewhere or pinning him in place. It merely lay there... doing nothing. "Your stipend will be adjusted to adequately reflect your performance."

His father was pleased... He was never pleased with anyone but his mother. Lelouch had no idea what to expect from a happy Emperor.

"You honor me, Your Majesty," Lelouch said distantly.

"Is there a favor you wish to ask for?"

This wasn't pleased... but something more. The Emperor rendered rewards with the same stroke he delivered justice: unilaterally. At best, he would offer an option, like he had given Lelouch in becoming Zero. But as Lelouch had since realized, the choice had been a mere illusion. His father had already known what he would decide.

"May I have some time to consider?" Lelouch asked. There had to be a trap he wasn't seeing.

The Emperor paused. "Very well, I will deliberate upon your request when you have come to a decision." He squeezed his shoulder before stepping back and turning around. "Your other guard is noticeably absent."

"His presence isn't necessary within the palace walls," Lelouch answered. He had encouraged Frederick to visit his family. Still angry with him for his manipulations, Frederick had agreed. He needed his space, and Lelouch would rather have him far away once Henry began sharing his version of events.

"Yet you intend to visit your friend before the Empire Day Gala in Philadelphia."

"Henry is adequate, and Frederick will be rejoining me in a few days." In time for the wedding. "Lamperouge has no enemies of note, and no one is aware yet that I've left Australia. The risk is minimal, and I'm perfectly capable of handling a random mugger." And Roy would be there, but he wasn't going to direct further attention to his friend if he could help it.

His father frowned. "Henry will be staying here for a few days. He is in need of additional training."

"I am pleased with his current performance," Lelouch said desperately. This wasn't the quick meeting which resulted in a stranger returning to his side, but something worse.

"Henry will stay," his father said sternly, "and some additional guards will accompany you."

More unspeakables. A shiver ran down Lelouch's spin. "I already made arrangements to stay with my friend. Having guards accompany me would be incredibly suspicious, nor can I cancel. The Homeland is not a terrorist hotbed; I will be fine."

"Keep your phone on," his father acquiesced. "You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lelouch said, throat tight, and rushed out of the throne room as fast as he dared.

The doors swung shut. He gulped for air. Henry took a comforting step closer, but one of the guards relayed that the Emperor wished him to report for training. Then he was gone, disappearing into one of the numerous secret passageways, and leaving Lelouch alone to the mercy of his thoughts. He could feel the guards' gazes burning into his back.

He took a quick right, his hand running along the wall. At a small indent, he paused, glancing over his shoulder, and pushed open the door to reveal a spacious broom closet. He sank to the floor, an electric blinking on. The room smelled clean, not like the grungy interior of the Count's basement. It lacked the comforting smell of the kitchen, but by now, everyone knew to find him there.

A broom pressed into his back. He took another shuddering breath. All... alone.

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Tokyo, Area Eleven**

Visiting Area Eleven always left a bitter taste in Marianne's mouth. She had carved a bloody warpath through Tokyo to ensure the quick subjugation of the Elevens and return to her children, but they had already moved on, shunning her for her actions.

"Lord Ashford," she said coldly as Reuben finally approached. Their appointment wasn't officially for a few more hours, but he had already given her the slip yesterday, and she was so done with his foolish games and abusing her trust. "Would you like to explain yourself?"

Reuben sighed and surveyed the empty labs. The Horus sat undisturbed in the corner. "Marianne. It's five in the morning. The only reason I'm here is because you deliberately set off my security alarm. Why? You despise mornings."

"I'm not a teenager anymore, and you've been avoiding me. I'm sure I don't have to spell out what a public schism between us would do. I appreciate your efforts in keeping Nunnally safe, but that does not afford you such freedom." Marianne crossed her arms. "We could've solved this yesterday, yet your staff claimed you were unreachable. You would never risk your research in such a manner."

"I was inspecting the hospital. They've been filing complaints because of the Knight Police harassing their patients, a situation which requires my attention." He pulled out a chair and wearily sat down. "Afterwards, I had to run damage control because of the school's little impromptu march."

"I noticed," she said dryly. The entire affair had turned into a spectacle as hundreds of students, many from notable families, demanded an investigation. "Charles did like his movies. Whatever happened to him?"

"He made a little too much noise and was found dead in the bathtub after the neighbors couldn't bear the smell any longer."

"Suicide?"

"Supposedly. My students clearly disagreed." He rolled his eyes and turned on the computer. "He helped with some film project a while back and left a remarkable impression. It doesn't help that the Knight Police haven't exactly gained the most favorable reputation."

"Purists..." Marianne scrunched her nose. "If they traded their sense of self-importance for some common sense, they would actually be a foe. A bunch of grand posturing fools."

"Lord Gottwald is their nominal leader. He accepted the position more out of a sense of duty to his deceased father than actual belief. Unfortunately, his beliefs haven't gained in many supporters within the party. I suspect we will see a schism soon."

"He is breaking with his family?" she asked, trying to place the name. The Gottwalds were old money, but not on the list of families Charles kept a careful eye on.

"You left quite an impression on him." Reuben looked at her expectantly. "A former member of your royal guard, before you dismissed them all."

A hazy memory of an over enthusiastic guard emerged, but she dismissed it. People changed. His attitudes and beliefs back then didn't necessarily reflect his current values. Aligning himself with the Purists meant he at least somewhat prescribed to the notion of superiority of blood. While he may have respected her then, she was also no longer capable of fighting outside of her knightmare. Her legs were useless, and Britannia didn't accept such weakness easily.

"Keep the Purists away from my children, especially Nunnally," she ordered.

"Tell your son to stop goading the Knight Police every time he visits. I've had to intervene twice to stop him from being arrested for being a public nuisance or whatever bogues charges they construed. I even asked an employee of mine to keep him out of trouble, but there is only so much he can do."

Marianne cringed. Henry had also complained in great length in his reports. Goading the Knight Police was nothing in comparison to the time he apparently decided to track down Refrain dealers. It was almost... safe.

"Charles and Lelouch can deal with the fallout, but keep Nunnally safe. She isn't ready," Marianne said.

"Ready?" Reuben faced her squarely. "I've already made my opinions quite clear, but what brings about your sudden change of heart?"

In the back of her mind, the geass connection hummed. Children lay on operating tables, while Katherine sipped her tea and read experimental data, unaware of the passenger in her mind. Charles didn't particularly care. She hadn't either when the reports were distant and trusted V.V. to handle them. Their suffering would benefit Britannia as a whole. Seeing their broken eyes and shattered bodies with her own eyes made her reconsider. If V.V. had his way, her own children would be lying there, victims of his experimentations.

"Odysseus has been very persistent in forwarding articles on child development," she said instead.

"Not happy that Lelouch is a soldier," Reuben accused. "If Charles is prancing him before the people, there is no reason for him to remain one. The anonymity and safety it provides him is now useless."

"Yes, well it's more that Odysseus is mad about Lelouch being Zero and complains that we have placed an undue burden of expectations on him which limits possibilities of self-expression or something."

Reuben froze. Belatedly, Marianne realized she had never told him the truth. Nor had Lelouch or Nunnally ever told him.

"Fourteen," he growled. His outrage was why they had all kept silent. "Fourteen year olds should not be making decisions which cost others their lives. Having him be a soldier was bad enough, but I thought he wouldn't actually see combat. Instead, he was deployed in Area Two. Now, you're saying that he wasn't recovering, but running around for the last three years as Zero. No wonder he is always high strung. He hasn't had a single moment to rest."

"He took vacations."

"When you forced him to attend social events where everyone is dissecting his every move. Very relaxing."

"Australia was safe. He had plenty of downtime," Marianne said.

"Was? What did he do?"

"Finished the negotiations," Marianne grumbled. "It should be in the morning papers."

"Which I will read at a more reasonable hour than five in the morning," Reuben growled. "Marianne... he was hurt, deeply. I don't think he's ever had the time to heal. He hates having nothing to do because then he has the time to think. Do you even know what happened?"

"No," Marianne whispered. Pushing him felt cruel. She had always needed time, but the clock continued to turn, and he kept his silence.

"Does anyone?"

"Yes." Marianne pressed her lips together. The Count's agent who had kidnapped her son and then been saved by him from his well deserved death. Only he knew the full truth, but he hadn't cracked under the OSI's questioning. He would tell her nothing unless he deemed it necessary. "But Lelouch never told anyone. He said he was fine, and we believed him, yet... Lelouch had a panic attack in a cleaning closet, and Charles has no idea why."

"How are the two of you so bad at this?" Reuben groaned, turning away. "I'll see if I can talk to him when he visits Nunnally again. My specialty is in material science though, not the brain. He may be good at being Zero, but you cannot force it on him. He could even enroll here at the academy for a year. Being around others his age would benefit him."

"Forced? He _chose_ to be Zero. I was going to bring him home and keep him safe. He had options; he knew that. But instead, he asked to stay. He's irrationally attached to the friends he made there."

"Considering what happened with his first friend, I wouldn't call it irrational."

"Enough," she barked. They were not retreading this argument. She had come because he dared to hide things from her. He had no room to criticize her. "Go call your pilot, Stadtfeld."

His hand briefly paused over the keyboard. "She's busy."

Why was this random pilot more important than her? Reuben had never denied her anything before, even when she was a teenager.

"So am I. Whatever she is doing is unimportant in comparison. She should feel honored for her presence to be requested. Summon her."

"She's not in Tokyo."

"This ridiculous game over your ace is done. Either she presents herself in the next hour, or I order my guards to drag her here."

"You would find that rather impossible. She's in the Homeland on a business trip with her father. She's merely my test pilot and has a life outside of my labs."

"You knew I was coming and why. I don't appreciate having my time wasted, Lord Ashford. Next time, you will inform me about her whereabouts and ensure she is present. I'm not above having Charles summon her family officially. Your labs are a much lower stake environment without any potential political fallout. The Stadtfelds are under your protection, aren't they?"

She had never needed to leverage her position against him before. Of course an Eleven would once again threaten her precious relationships.

"She's a child. Please, leave her alone," he begged.

Marianne frowned. His actions were becoming increasingly brazen and endangering his own position. Reuben was never one to take risks lightly.

"My spars aren't that scary to go to all this trouble," she said.

"My former test pilots would beg to disagree."

"Their lack of mental fortitude proves that they were inadequate for your purposes," she said. They didn't deserve to replace her, nor did this new pilot.

"She's a student," he stressed.

"And exactly how good is she? Her simulator scores were excellent despite freezing, but not good enough to drive you to such length," she said, thinking. It wasn't like she would kill them. No, he was afraid of the consequences. "You think she's a potential Knights of the Round candidate."

His gaze turned hard. "Which is why you will not spar with her and report her to Charles."

"Aces are already rare. Knights of the Round candidates are irreplaceable. She should be honored to serve her country."

"She's still a child who will have her future stolen from her," he shouted. "What if she wants to be a painter? An engineer? A lawyer? You would deny her that opportunity and make her a killer instead."

"Her skills will serve Britannia's best interests. One individual's desire is immaterial."

"Like your son's?" he asked sadly.

Her retort died on her tongue. The situation was not comparable, but damn him for knowing her so well.

"I won't help make another child a killer, Marianne," he said.

"You haven't even told her," Marianne realized. "How can you claim to be protecting her interests if you haven't even asked her? And she's hardly a child; I was younger than her when I began piloting."

"There is nothing I regret more."

"Excuse me?"

He rose and began searching the cabinets. "I shouldn't have let you pilot the Ganymede."

"Because I was such a burden?" she spat. She had trusted him.

He pulled out a box of crackers and poured them into a bowl, his every move painfully slow. "You were-are a good pilot, but I shouldn't have introduced you to court. We had so many assassins coming after you, and I was terrified to lose you. But worst of all, you caught Charles's attention. I should've protected you more, but I was naive, thinking I could lock us away in a lab and ignore the consequences of our research."

"I'm an Empress now."

"You cried after Charles sent you on your first mission and barely left your room for days. All those years of effort and work to draw you out of your shell, gone in an instance. He saw someone useful and made sure you were bound to his will."

Marianne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Reuben..."

"I know you love him. I do not understand the relationship between the two of you, but even though you're happy now that doesn't mean Kallen will be. She doesn't even want to be an ace in the first place. The only reason she is working for me is because of the politics. So please, let her be a child for a while longer."

"No, you should stop meddling in affairs above your head, Reuben. Your duty is to serve the Empire well, and that's done by ensuring our military strength. Do you think the E.U. will twiddle their thumbs forever? Or that the Chinese will refrain from attacking the areas? Waiting and doing nothing because of some silly notion about protecting innocence is the height of foolishness. Your power and influence exists because of me, and perhaps you should remember that I'm not some simpering child anymore!"

"Oh, please. My power and influence? I never said anything about your benevolent helping. I was perfectly happy doing research, but you didn't even think to ask. You never ask. Now, I have to deal with a bunch of idiot nobles, and the Purists have their sticky fingers everywhere, thinking I don't notice. Not to mention Clovis is being played as a fool by literally everyone, including me. Give him a compliment, and he waves every permit. We have permits for a reason! So perhaps you should cease your meddling in my affairs."

"And the Ashfords are better off than ever. You're repaying my generosity with subterfuge."

"I don't want your generosity." He pushed away the bowl and began pacing the room. "I keep watching and waiting, desperately hoping you will turn things around. That the girl I knew is still somewhere in you. Kindness? Respect? Mercy? These aren't weaknesses, yet you insist on abandoning them."

"They get you killed," she hissed.

"Because of that, Lelouch is now Zero!"

"Well, if you had talked him out of enlisting in the first place-"

"He was this close to marching up to the Emperor and disinheriting himself!" He inhaled shakily and stumbled backwards to lean on the counter.

"What?"

"We both know Charles wouldn't have reacted well," Reuben whispered. "If Lelouch wasn't afraid of the consequences, he still would. I sent you into the lion's den. Couldn't stop Lelouch from running into danger in his haste to get away from you. I don't want to fail again."

Fail? He hadn't. Without him, she would never have achieved such heights. He had made her life worth living, yet he saw none of that. The man before her was old and incredibly tired. A buzzer echoed and she frowned.

"That would be Nunnally. I asked Thomas to fetch her when you visited, although I didn't think you'd arrive this damn early."

"Reuben, you've accomplished so much. I am grateful, also perhaps frustrated, but without you Britannia would've never established herself on the world stage. We'd be overrun by the French and Chinese. Your legacy-"

"-is one of death. My knightmare was supposed to protect lives, but all it leaves is a field of corpses. You do as well, and now, Lelouch." He nodded to the window, and she looked outside to see Nunnally navigating with her cane as Thomas respectfully followed. "You complained about a lack of time, didn't you?"

Marianne glanced away, but his stare was unrelenting, asking her to choose. Would she spend time with her daughter? Or continue to pursue a potential pilot?

He was either using her daughter as a shield or looking out for her, and Marianne couldn't tell which it was.

"Eighteen," she said. "I can wait that long, but you will inform her exactly how good she is and of my invitation to spar with her. She has until her birthday to choose before I make it an order. And Reuben? Do not think to oppose me when that time comes."

He nodded, lips pursed, and opened the door. "Hello, Nunnally. I'm sorry for rousing you so early, but your mother decided to drop by early."

"Because of Kallen?" Nunnally asked, tilting her head and revealing a bruise beneath her left eye. "She's out of town, Mother."

Years ago, Nunnally would enthusiastically shout Mommy. That had changed to a Mom. Then she had begun copying Lelouch, referring to her exclusively as Mother. At least both her children still acknowledged their relationship instead of referring to her by name like some of the princes and princesses.

"Yes," Marianne said softly, "but it's good to see you as well. Come here."

Reuben nodded at her and slipped out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him. Nunnally's head turned, tracking the noise, and then she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Normally, Nunnally tried to face whoever she was talking to, but now she didn't bother.

Marianne stifled a sigh and rolled forward to brush her daughter's hair out of her face. "What happened to your eye, sweetie?"

Stiffening beneath her touch, Nunnally withdrew, and Marianne swallowed at the rejection. Lelouch in many ways was easier. While it was not acceptance, she could still draw out an amused laugh or reaction from him. He was willing to engage on certain safe subjects and with enough coaxing, even argue them. But Nunnally? She swung between aggressive and indifference. Only the presence of others would have her pretend to be cordial.

"Do you know Lady Stadtfeld?" Marianne tried again.

Nunnally's shoulders dropped. "She's a potential friend. You should let her be."

Or maybe Reuben was preventing her from further estranging her daughter. If only she knew how to bridge the gap.

"It's not that simple... Reuben and I have an agreement. But her simulator scores were impressive despite freezing. Others will inevitably discover that tidbit as well. In some capacity, she will be required to serve Britannia in the future."

"She doesn't want to be a pilot," Nunnally said, directing her ear towards her.

"Knightmare pilots are well respected, especially one of her skill level. Others would kill for such an opportunity."

"Well, people kill for a lot of things, don't they? But you're not going to listen. You never do. I bet you have no idea why she froze or threw up afterwards. Just like you see nothing wrong with Britannia."

"Why?" Marianne asked, reaching out for her daughter again.

"Because the simulation was the conquest of Japan! A fictionalized version even. She knows well enough that the Japanese never fought back. You'd force her to be a killer and a tool for Britannia, just like Lelouch."

She changed course. "I saw your brother at the banquet. He seems to be doing well."

"No, he isn't," Nunnally said. "You threatened one of his friends."

And once again, Marianne found herself in a new minefield. Sometimes, there was no winning. "Yes, he yelled at me and went to ridiculous lengths as always to try and avoid me. But he's fine."

"Not like he would tell you if he wasn't," Nunnally said bitterly and fumbled for the chair. Finding it, she sat down and absently fiddled with her phone. "Why did you never tell us about your siblings?"

The world froze.

Her oldest sister, Lula, laughed and whispered to Marianne naughty things when their parents weren't around. She had taken to sneaking out in the night to meet with a boy from the next town and skimming from the pharmacy. Elaine always scolded her when she looked up from her book. She was the quietest of her five siblings, but when she deigned to spend time with Marianne, she filled the world with endless colors. She had died first, her steadfast calm broken by frantic screams and the first sign that everything had gone horribly wrong. Aimee, a mere year and a half older than her, had burst into tears at the sound, alerting the men to her hiding spot under the bed.

They hadn't killed her; when Marianne finally found her voice, she said they did. It was better than acknowledging that her beloved sister could still be alive out there while she lived in safety. They had done everything together, babbling in their own secret language and running through the fields to unearth every little secret. Paralyzed by fear, she had betrayed Aimee and done nothing as they dragged her out.

Marianne had searched for her once and found nothing, the trail long cold. She never found the courage again. Aimee's purple eyes haunting her dreams and stepping onto the battlefield to ask her why her beloved sister had killed her.

As for her two younger brothers, the men had no use for them. At least their death was swift.

"How do you know that?" Marianne asked faintly. "It never felt important."

"Is it because you're ashamed? You think you're better than them? All those years, not one word. We could've visited their grave, remembered them, but instead you wiped them out of our lives completely. I didn't even know about your cousin!"

Marianne narrowed her eyes. Why had Reuben told her? He at least understood.

"Nunnally..." she whispered.

"It's always about you, the Emperor, or Britannia," Nunnally spat, stepping forward, her hands clenched. "We're never imp-"

Marianne leaned forward and pulled her into a hug, ignoring her half-hearted struggle. "That's not true, Nunnally. I'm sorry, so sorry. I just-I know I messed up and I'm trying. I love you."

"No, you don't," Nunnally whispered, tremors ransacking her body.

"I do," Marianne assured her. Ignoring the pain from her old wounds, she pulled her daughter closer and waited for the quiet sobs to subside. "What do you need me to do?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Nunnally begged.

"Because I wasn't ready." Marianne ran a hand through her daughter's hair, untangling the early morning clumps. "I'm not ashamed... I could never- They're... dead."

Nunnally stilled. "That's a lie."

How? Even Charles hadn't noticed the one time he asked her about it. Family history was a difficult subject for both of them-one they preferred to avoid. Yet Nunnally...

"They're dead," Marianne said, her traitorous heart beating rapidly.

"No." Nunnally pushed herself free and stood. "Why are you lying? Why haven't they said anything?"

If Aimee was alive, would she even recognize Marianne holding Charles's hand?

"I was eight, Nunnally. They killed them all except... Aimee. I don't even know where I would begin to look." And it was less painful not to.

"Can we?"

Could she do something with her daughter? Yes. For the first time in years, Nunnally was allowing her to get close. Something for just the two of them which would probably lead to a dead end. But together... Marianne was losing her children, and this was perhaps the only time to rectify it between her busy schedule.

"Yes," she whispered. "We can."

And then she slowly began to tell stories which had long lived under lock and key. Nunnally listened attentively, leaning into her touch. Her soft questions surprisingly didn't hurt. Instead, they brought a fond smile to Marianne's face. For the first time, she wanted to remember. Childhood memories slipped away so easily. She could no longer remember Theo's face or his favorite food. Nor Paul's favorite game. But she did remember they were all scared of thunderstorms, cowering together under the bed. Aimee had always laughed at them. Lula would sit next to their mother, both of them hunched over the table and mending garments. Their father would always fall asleep in his rocking chair, listening to Elaine reading from her book.

She missed them.

"Thank you," Nunnally whispered. "Can I-we pay our respects?"

It had been years since Reuben arrived with her cousin and coaxed her out of her hiding spot. The bodies had already been burned, but they still lay to rest various trinkets in a casket, buried next to the stream. After her cousin died, Marianne had never returned.

"Of course. I'll find some time." She stroked her daughter's hair. Reuben's accusations echoed in her mind. "Is there anything I should know?"

Nunnally shook her head, and Marianne bit back a sigh. Progress would be slow.

"Why don't we have some lunch," she suggested.

One of Reuben's trusted servants brought them a small plate of sandwiches. For a moment, she saw him peeking through the doorway, and he nodded at her encouragingly, but left them to their own devices.

At the end of lunch, Nunnally set aside her napkin. Softly, she whispered, "What will happen when I turn fourteen?"

Marianne set down her silverware. This must have been bothering her daughter for a long time. Of course, it would. Lelouch had become Zero, taking on a heavy burden. And Nunnally lacked a clear path forward. Marianne had tried to shield her from the derisive whispers about her blindness, but to little success. Her daughter would not be accepted easily.

"You could stay here for longer. It's not uncommon, especially for younger siblings, to stay out of the spotlight for longer," Marianne offered.

Had Charles already considered this question? Or like many things involving his children, forgotten?

"No," Nunnally said firmly, resting her head on the back of the chair. "I'm not going to sit on the sidelines."

"It's not the sidelines. I thought you enjoyed school."

"It's fun, but that's meaningless. I'm living a lie, and Lelouch is the one paying for it." She scowled. "I don't know what I should do... and I won't abandon my friend."

Both of her children were so attached.

"I'll see what options there are," Marianne assured, stunned to have a normal conversation. This was what the other Empresses considered with their own children. "Is there anything you're interested in?"

"Media, I guess."

"Perhaps you could talk to Clovis. He has been rather hands-on there and would be delighted to have your interest."

"Won't he tell everyone about me? I don't want everyone to know. They will, but not now."

Marianne pushed herself away from the table and rolled to her daughter's side. "He won't if he knows what's good for him."

* * *

**Royal Palace, New Pendragon, Area Three**

For being a Britannian prisoner, Leila was being treated surprisingly well. Upon landing, Prince Lelouch had handed her off to the guards and left without looking back. He had succeeded in his objective, and she ceased to exist. The guards brought her to a well furnished room, a gilded cage, and left her to her own devices. Not once had they spoken a word, their silence disconcerting. Even the servant-a frail girl with sickly limbs who brought her a steaming meal-had been silent outside of a whispered, "m'lady."

Did no one ever talk in Britannia? Or was this the beginning of the torture to crack open her mind so she would spill the E.U.'s secrets?

Leila paced the room restlessly, steadfastly ignoring the dress lying in the corner. Already, she had desperately searched the room to find something to fashion as a weapon. Her items of luxury had been chosen carefully, either bolted down or made of soft material. Even the bed lacked springs which she could've fashioned into a makeshift knife.

She was in an enemy territory and could not afford to let down her guard... not like she had with Prince Lelouch. Clenching her fists, she took a steadying breath. Righteous anger could only last so long, and the feeling of betrayal was creeping into its place, clogging her chest.

She rubbed her eyes and recalled his callous cruelty. Here in the viper's den, she could not betray a hint of weakness. They would use it against her, twisting the knife even further. Even now, she could be watched. A trapped creature on display to study and dissect.

The door unlocked and she whirled around, her hands raised. She would not be quiet.

"His Majesty is prepared to see you now," the guard said, voice flat.

She raised her chin. "I'm not leaving."

The guard didn't even blink and two more guards filed into the room. "His Majesty is prepared to see you now."

Exhaling slowly, she relaxed her hands. Fighting now was pointless, they would drag her before the Emperor by force if necessary, and she had no weapon to defend herself.

"Fine," she said and marched past them, still wearing her uniform. They would not take that from her.

They led her through winding passageways and staircases, their journey steadily heading upwards despite the countless turns. Finally, they entered a brightly lit hallway, a portrait closing behind them, and two massive doors ahead slowly opened.

Arguably the most powerful man in the world watched her enter with a bored expression. The guards peeled away from her, snapping to attention at the edge of the red carpet. If she made a single aggressive motion, they would immediately jump into action.

Stopping, Leila crossed her arms and glared defiantly.

"Kneel," the Emperor ordered, his booming voice echoing around her.

Knees weak, she lifted her chin. "No."

"You will kneel."

"I'm not one of your subjects."

He raised a hand, and her heart hammered. "I will not ask again."

The seconds ticked by; she did not kneel. The hand fell.

An electrical current ran through her body, her teeth buzzed, and she fell to the ground, gasping for breath. A knee pressed into her back, keeping her pinned despite her adrenaline fueled struggles.

The Emperor watched her dispassionately. "You can either kneel of your own volition, or I will force you."

The pressure eased, and she spat on the ground. She had already sacrificed her life to save Jeanne, but she wouldn't play a part of his games. Another jolt of electricity left her prone on the floor.

"Kneel," he ordered.

"I won't," she hissed, pushing herself upright, and cried out in pain as she fell once again.

"Do you think because you are here that your friend is safe?" the Emperor asked slowly, his eyes hard. "Your cooperation buys her safety. A word from me and that little quaint house at the edge of Paris will have an unfortunate gas leak. She will escape, but her mother will not. When the next accident strikes, she will not be so lucky."

Tears burning in her eyes, she knelt.

He smirked and leaned forward, his gaze turning from bored to predatory. In kneeling, she had granted him a victory and the keys to her compliance. Her actions hadn't saved Jeanne but left her stranded on the guillotine, unaware of the danger. But if she had done nothing, then Jeanne's death was also assured. Like his son, the Emperor didn't bluff.

"I apologize that such brutality was necessary, but order must be upheld. Of course, we will allow you some latitude to correct any faux pas. After all, Britannia and her customs are foreign to you despite your heritage. Only time will correct this unfortunate oversight in your education," he said.

"Don't pander me. I am your prisoner, regardless of whatever finery you shower me with." She stared into his eyes, unwilling to be cowed. "I'm French, Your Majesty, and I will remain so. This charade is a waste of both of our times."

"An honored guest," the Emperor said. "While a Britannian citizen, you have never once set foot in your home-country before. To punish you for the sins of your father from before you were even born is excessive." But executing Jeanne wasn't. "The E.U. has undoubtedly filled your ears with propaganda to turn you against your nation. Because we are merciful, your sentence is light."

Her lips curled at his dramatic pause. He thought his honeyed words would mask the poison beneath, but she would not be fooled again.

"Two years during which you will act as an upstanding Britannian citizen and explore our culture. Afterwards,"-he smiled-"you may choose whether to return to the E.U. or remain and reclaim your family name. During your visit, you will submit to Britannian laws and consequences. While allowances will be made to accommodate for your ignorance, you will still be held accountable for your actions."

"Like you would allow my return," she spat.

He raised his hand again, and she cursed herself for flinching. "Respect," he said, "is imperative. My patience wanes for your churlish antics."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," she said, fingers gouging into her palm.

"Britannia does not break formal agreements lightly. A copy of the contract you signed has already been filed with the E.U., and you will be allowed monitored video calls with those you wish to assure them of your health and safety. Discussing treason would of course lead to your immediate execution."

Where Jeanne would have been a symbol of the E.U.'s hypocrisy, Leila was a Britannian figurehead. The world would be watching her to see who she would choose: the E.U. or Britannia. The latter would shake the narrative that Britannia was a vile nation. Leila bit down on her smile. Britannia was gambling on her choosing the life of a noblewoman over a humble officer.

That was why Empress Marianne had sought her out and planted the seeds of doubt. They wanted her to believe Britannia was better and thought of her as a foolish, idealistic child because she fell for Prince Lelouch's machinations.

Two years... Two years of this charade, and then she could go home. If she talked to Jeanne, she would be able to warn her. All she had to do was play along. Let them think they had fooled her, while she held onto her beliefs.

"What of my past?' she challenged. "Will I be required to be an _honorable_ Britannian citizen who spills the E.U.'s secrets, Your Majesty?"

"Keep your paltry information; Britannia has no need for it," he dismissed.

Leila took a steadying breath. She could do this. Collect information and win this game. "Fine."

"You should thank me for my generous generosity."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she hissed, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

The Emperor rose, robes gently falling to the ground. He approached slowly, and her heart hammered against her ribs, but she remained frozen, not daring to twitch a muscle. Smirking, he studied her, his purple eyes devoid of emotion.

"And how will you conduct yourself at the press conference?" he asked.

Jeanne...

"Respectfully, Your Majesty."

He walked behind her, and she turned to keep him in sight. His hands caught her hair, and he growled, "Eyes forward and down, Lady Breisgau."

"Malcal," she hissed, wincing at the sharp shooting pain.

"Malcal is an enemy soldier with no rights. Only Lady Bresigau is afforded protection. By signing the contract, you agreed to these terms," he said. Perhaps, she should have actually read it. "Regardless, as a Britannian citizen, you are as I will it. If I say your name now is Mildred, you will smile, thank me for the consideration, and accept your new identity. To do otherwise is to oppose the Emperor and commit treason. A fate which will strip you of all rights."

He did not have that right. Only she could decide who she was.

She chuckled. "You're making a very convincing argument for why I should join Britannia."

"Respect, Lady Breisgau." He let go, walked back before her, and watched her impassively as another shock left her gasping on the ground. "Would you rather be sold a lie?"

She coughed and righted herself. Her jaw and muscles ached. "Like the lie your son sold? Had a grand time with that, didn't he? Playing us all for fools and enacting your orders."

"Lelouch didn't receive any instructions from me. The plan was of his own design."

The last remnant of hope that he had been forced to died. The Emperor hadn't played the role of General Smilas in his life. No, Prince Lelouch was simply that ruthless and a frighteningly skilled liar. She had been such a fool, a puppet.

"You should be grateful to him. He put considerable effort in ensuring protections for yourself," the Emperor said. "My other children wouldn't have bothered."

"Grateful?" Because it could be worse? Leila clenched her jaw, but kept her eyes steadily trained on the ground.

"You think your position is difficult now? There is much worse I could do to you. Part of the agreement allows for an E.U. doctor to independently verify your claims of health. Britannia cannot inflict upon you lasting harm. Of course, there are other ways to ensure your compliance without leaving evidence. Lodging, sustenance, and monetary means are all assured for you. None of which were necessary. So show some gratitude."

"He ruined my life," she whispered, but not quiet enough.

"Your life was already ruined when your parents made the foolhardy decision to defect. A dour conclusion was inevitable. Your death would have suited Britannian just as well, but your continued existence has political benefits. Should those cease, then there is no need for you."

She hung her head, having nothing more to say. She had thought Prince Lelouch different. An exception to the royal family. But he was perhaps the only one who truly embodied the Britannian ideal and easily slipped between masks.

Undoubtedly, he would be the greatest threat the E.U. would ever face. Prince Schneizel was a known player on the field, and never participated in military affairs. His mother had died during the Emblem of Blood, limiting his field of influence to only himself. Empress Marianne in contrast was ever-increasingly popular and had the Emperor's ear. By being her son, Prince Lelouch could do nothing and benefit from her massive sphere of influence.

At the banquet, he had crossed cultural boundaries, reinforcing the image of a rebellious prince and building connection. Xingke had been amused by the prince and years from now, when Empress Tianzi became of an age to actually partake in governing, his opinion would sway her in Prince Lelouch's favor. In comparison, whatever plan Prince Schneizel and General Smilas had discussed was short term. General Smilas at least preferred practical gains seen in a span of a few years rather than decades.

Who thought that far ahead?

She had vainly hoped that the next Emperor of Britannia would be cut from a different cloth and allow the world to find peace, or at least give the E.U. a fighting chance. Instead, an even bigger monster lurked in the shadows, poised to earn the throne. Like his father, Prince Lelouch possessed the same absolute conviction of victory which would inspire the masses. The same cold ruthlessness to obliterate their foe without remorse. The same purple eyes. He was his father's son with none of the cautionary history.

"I will express my gratitude the next time we meet." She needed to survive for two years to warn the E.U. and convince them to take preemptive action. For now, her job was to play the meek captive bedazzled by Britannian luxury, while she collected information. Perhaps sow discontent...

"See that you do," the Emperor ordered.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Her mouth tasted of ash. "I was outmaneuvered by my opponent, even I can acknowledge that. I can only assume his skill developed here by spreading rumors and manipulating the court. His efforts to paint Britannia's conquest as part of an alien conspiracy has reached even our ears in the E.U."

The Emperor didn't grow angry like Prince Lelouch had suggested he would. Instead, he sighed. "I see why Marianne likes you."

What?

His footsteps receded. "You are a novice. Perhaps your next attempt won't be as pitiful. A guard will escort you back to your rooms and then the press conference. For your friend, you will be the happy girl excited to sample what Britannia has to offer." He paused. "You may wear your uniform if you wish. It will be burned afterwards. You're dismissed."

Unable to hide her tremors, she unsteadily rose to her feet. Her knees hurt from kneeling. How did Britannias do this constantly?

The guards didn't move and she could feel the expectant silence.

Bowing, she said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

* * *

**Sydney, Australia**

Gene Smilas rolled his cigarette between his fingers as he looked down at the bustling city below, the traffic having subsided now that lunch was over. Soon it would restart as businesses closed and the mad dash home began. Wind tugging on his hair, he pulled out his phone again and found, once again, no new messages from Leila. Jeanne was frantic with worry. Something had gone terribly wrong, but he had no evidence to accuse Britannia. Only the suspicion that Prince Lelouch had somehow been part of it.

Him procuring a treaty, pre-approved with the Emperor's signature, had been a surprise. Even Prince Schneizel was not afforded such latitude. Their previous negotiations had stalled because the Emperor refused to compromise on certain matters. Now, he suddenly had, basically offering the E.U. exactly what they wished with only reasonable concessions on their part. Gene smelled a rat.

Unfortunately, Prince Lelouch had invited the ambassadors from the Middle Eastern Federation and Anglo-Egyptian Sudan Democratic Kingdom. Their presence tied Gene's hand. The E.U. needed their cooperation to maintain trade, and an insult to them would've been politically devastating-and career ending.

Measured footsteps approached from behind, and Prince Schneizel stopped at the edge of the railing. "Quaint spot."

"You were the one who suddenly insisted that meeting at the embassy was no longer secure," Gene said and took another drag of his cigarette. Smoking always annoyed the prince. "I'm missing my aide. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

"Hardly. I must congratulate you on ensuring such a beneficial treaty for the E.U. Your position as the Secretary of State is nearly guaranteed now."

"I did nothing. Your brother did all the work." Gene looked down at the city again. "You said he would not interfere with our plans."

"If I dumped any more paperwork on him, I would have roused suspicion. My office has never had more free time. He should not have had the time nor energy to concoct any scheme."

"Well, he gambled extravagantly. He clearly had a plethora of free time."

"Lelouch's unholy aptitude at completing paperwork aside, have your people seen him?"

Gene frowned. Leila gone, now Prince Lelouch. Somehow the trap had been the meeting, but its form remained elusive. "Did anything happen with his guards?"

"Not to my knowledge. His mother's entourage is supplementing his suite's security which is honestly more of a necessity at this point." Prince Schneizel shook his head. "I've already inquired at all the casinos he would normally frequent, but they haven't seen him either."

"We didn't do anything." If someone had, there would be hell to pay.

"A whisper to Marianne's ear, and she will attempt to wipe out the E.U. on her own," Prince Schneizel warned. "We're not ready for such a move."

His phone buzzed, and Gene pulled it out, reading the frantic text from one of his staff. Pulling up the newsfeed, his heart sank. "I found our two wayward youths."

Prince Schneizel leaned closer, his face eerily blank.

"Your brother played you," Gene said. Somewhere between Leila's text and the meeting, he had ensured Leila would accompany him back to Britannia. She looked well in the image, so it wasn't a physical kidnapping. They were claiming she had come of her own free will, a ridiculous idea. But he wasn't the one the Emperor was trying to convince, rather the general public. "And me, it seems. If you want my assistance, she will stay alive."

Lips quirked, Prince Schneizel turned away from the feed and the barrage of questions from the reporters. "The two years is a lie."

Another text flashed across his screen. One of his assistants had confirmed the correct paperwork had been filed, simply conveniently misplaced for the past day. Everything had been premeditated.

"The Emperor will lose face if he denies her request to return home," Gene said. This was her only hope, but her promising military career was now over. No one would ever trust her again. Hadn't he warned her repeatedly to be careful?

"The Emperor is surprisingly persuasive in such matters. He won't let her return. She's useless to you now. Security around her shouldn't be too stringent. I would suggest you eliminate her. She heard too much of our conversation."

Gene shook his head. "She won't say anything."

"People betray ideals to survive."

"I thought you said the Emperor has no reason to suspect you? He wouldn't even know to ask her."

"Lelouch knew," Prince Schneizel said and slowly tapped his finger on the rail. "I thought the friction between him and the Emperor would be enough to prevent such a collaboration, but the Emperor clearly orchestrated this, and my brother doesn't dare to disobey."

"He follows orders like the good little soldier he is," Gene said. A prince trained in obedience. Who would have imagined?

Prince Schneizel fixed him with a harsh glare. "How do you know that?"

"You neglected to share it as per our agreement," Gene said coldly.

Prince Schneizel frowned briefly. "I considered it unimportant. Agitating him and betraying his trust would've been detrimental to recruiting him. Of course that is moot now. The Emperor holds his loyalty too securely."

"What do you know then? Because if the Emperor sends him after us, I would like to know my enemy instead of flying blind, and you will answer, or I walk away, and you gain nothing from all these months idling away here."

"He enlisted at twelve and insisted on a ridiculous cover story of selling furniture. Generally, he keeps to himself and will do anything for his sister. Otherwise, he has no formal allies, is insistent on his neutrality, and unable to afford any of the expected servants, instead relying on Marianne's generosity." Prince Schneizel raised an eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

Leila had said he was friendly with the Sumeragi girl who was pursuing him romantically. Whether they felt anything for each other was irrelevant. Sumeragi had a controlling interest in Sakuradite mining and was investing heavily to diversify their holdings. The Kyoto House was set to become one of the largest companies in Britannia, undoubtedly helped by the aid of Prince Lelouch.

The Emperor hoarded military and financial power. Him entrusting Empress Marianne with military affairs, and then Princess Cornelia, had been shocking. Both of them were blindly loyal and would never think of staging a coup. More importantly, he oversaw all the finances himself and held the purse string of each of the royals. The Chief Secretary to the Treasury was a similar fanatic but completely devoted to numbers. He was incapable of holding a conversation beyond parroting Britannian propaganda.

Military might helped with coups, which was what Schneizel was settling for. Financial independence was near impossible. The Emperor wanted his children and wives reliant upon him. Their expensive social obligations prevented them from accruing any substantial savings, as suddenly the Emperor would insist on their presence. The only possible escape was through marriage.

Sumeragi was swimming in money with a net worth only expected to grow. She sought power and even sold out her father to elevate herself. She was also pursuing Prince Lelouch... a soldier. The Emperor hadn't stopped either of them. He was risking his power.

Either the Emperor believed his control over his son to be absolute or had chosen his successor. Both seemed laughable, given Prince Lelouch's outspoken statements. While they could've been a lie, Prince Lelouch had actually read the books he debated. There were many other possible masks he could've chosen which were easier to wear and less conspicuous.

While his facade had perhaps been tailored to fool them, it relied on his real personality. For him, it was the easiest mask to wear.

Gene studied Prince Schneizel standing next to him, completely relaxed. The man was a snake, only trustworthy when his goals complemented Gene's. He wished to be the Emperor; he needed an army. But were the winds to change direction, he would abandon the ship and begin anew.

Prince Schneizel hadn't realized the implications, and Gene wouldn't clue him in on the threat his younger brother posed. He needed a significant challenge, otherwise Britannia would finish its succession crisis quickly and return to plundering the world.

"Keep Leila alive," Gene said firmly. "Had I known he enlisted at such a young age, we would have proceeded differently and wouldn't be in such a mess."

"His age is irrelevant. How did you discover his status though? Information parity as we agreed."

"He acts like a soldier, and his guards are military as well."

Gene turned away. As if Prince Lelouch's age of enlistment was irrelevant. Children were more malleable. Naturally, he obeyed his father despite his displeasure. Obedience was instilled in every soldier. If he hadn't spirited Leila away, Gene would almost pity him.

Smushing his cigarette, Gene asked, "Will you be returning to Britannia now that the negotiations have been concluded?"

"No. I will continue to maintain diplomatic relationships. You are the only one going home, General," Prince Schneizel said, a rare trace of irritation to his voice.

Gene had initially accepted the plan because his own career had come to an end. The negotiations were supposed to keep him out of his countrymens' hair and prevent him from accruing a greater following back home. Old wealth did not like having their tender balance of power upset. Now, his victory, delivered to him on a silver platter by Prince Lelouch, guaranteed he would be made Secretary of Defense regardless of who won the election.

"I wish you the best of luck," Gene said, inclining his head and leaving.

Continuing to isolate Prince Schneizel meant the Emperor was suspicious. It was time to cut ties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> And thus begins a new arc. Hopefully, there'll be some worldbuilding thoughts next chapter, but my well is running dry.
> 
> Quick Question: Roy's wedding is coming up. How invested are you guys in reading it? I'm considering posting it as a related one-shot since it's not that plot relevant.
> 
> If you haven't already noticed, I published a one-shot Finding Sincerity for Lelouch/Leila although it isn't very romantic. Otherwise, the next update will be in two weeks, same time as always.
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN and Dark for your help with betaing. Leave a comment on your way out. :)
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


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